photo by Jennifer Upton |
For the 2013 holiday season, I am hosting a blog series called Hurting for the Holidays. Twenty-six amazing guest writers are sharing their hearts, hurts, and helps to help those of us who carry an internal ache to navigate this celebratory season. Find all posts in the series here, and participate via social media through the hashtag #HurtingfortheHolidays.
The answer to a lot of my problems is running away. So naturally when Jenna died I ran with the idea someone proposed to me when I asked her what on earth was I going to do for Christmas? Her first should-be Christmas. There was something gut-wrenching about the idea of Christmas that first year.
So we did.
We painfully
exchanged small gifts that morning (my husband really wanted to do the
whole gift thing, so I caved but it felt so wrong), cried our faces off
and skipped town Christmas morning.
I don't remember much of that day, but looking back it's what my heart needed.
We
found ourselves in the town we celebrated our honeymoon - San Antonio.
Only this go around the city was a ghost town. We had each other and it
seemed like the lights and the city's charm and delight was for our
cheering up. Everyone was tucked under fleece blankets, sipping on hot
chocolate, gazing over their children opening one too many Christmas
packages. And it was the last thing on our minds. We were adventurous.
We saw a movie, Rode up and down the River Walk, had dinner. Talked,
shopped. Remembered her.
I remember having bags under my eyes, heavy eyes. A
body that felt ancient and a soul that wished heaven would come that
very moment. But Christmas hurt a tiny bit less. And for possibly the
first time, running away was the one thing that helped us survive
Christmas.
It might go against tradition, it might not sit well
with family, but it might be just what your heart needs. A break in
tradition. A little adventure-therapy. Soul searching in another city or
town. A desperate distance from the painful and lingering
could-have-beens sitting around your home, haunting you. There is a
sting in Christmas for so many. A holiday that shoves peace and joy into
our faces, when our hearts feel the exact opposite. It's okay to wallow
sometimes. It's okay to sulk. And it is desperately okay to dread or
even hate this time of year.
Just know, running away . . . it can be a very good thing sometimes.
I think that there is a stigma against running away. And sometimes (maybe even a lot of times) it's the hard but right thing to do. But other times . . . it's okay. Even good, healthy. When it's synonymous with authenticity, self-care. When running away is showing up to where you are. I love how Franchesca reminds us [me] of that. What are some healthy ways you can run away or show up this year (only you can decide which one you truly need)?
I think that there is a stigma against running away. And sometimes (maybe even a lot of times) it's the hard but right thing to do. But other times . . . it's okay. Even good, healthy. When it's synonymous with authenticity, self-care. When running away is showing up to where you are. I love how Franchesca reminds us [me] of that. What are some healthy ways you can run away or show up this year (only you can decide which one you truly need)?
* * *
Franchesca Cox is a wife, artist, mom, writer, dream-chaser and lover of faraway places. She writes because words often fail her in real life, and she is the queen of awkwardness. She writes for The MOB Society, runs Still Standing Magazine and shares random tidbits about raising two babies after loss, creativity and life in Southeast Texas on her blog Small Bird Studios.
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― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King