When the Holidays Hold Both Gratitude and Grief
A client said something to me last holiday season that I still think about. She told me it felt like she was living in two completely different realities at the same time. On the surface, everything looked good. She was back in her childhood home. The food was familiar. The people around the table were people she loved. There was real gratitude there. But there was also her father’s empty chair. And no matter how hard she tried to stay present, her mind couldn’t stop thinking about how much she missed him. Sometimes the heaviness of his absence made it hard for her to breathe. At one point, a loved one leaned over and asked her, “How are you doing? Are you okay?” She smiled and said yes. Because what else do you say when both things are true? When you’re thankful and devastated at the same time?
There’s something about the stretch of time between November and January that amplifies whatever we’re already carrying. Missing someone can hit so hard it feels physical. Moments later, you can find yourself laughing at a dumb joke or enjoying a nice meal. You can both feel deeply grateful for what’s in front of you, while also aching for what used to be. We’re surrounded by messages that tell us the holidays are supposed to be magical. Joyful. Full of warmth and connection. But real emotions are much more complicated and the holidays have a way of pulling all of that complexity right up to the surface.
Our brains are capable of holding more than one emotional truth at the same time. Psychologists call this emotional complexity. In everyday language, it just means you’re human. In fact, being able to hold mixed emotions is a sign of emotional maturity. Life doesn’t happen in neat chapters. Love and loss overlap. Joy and sadness share the same space. You can adore your family and still feel completely drained after a few hours with them just as you can be proud of your life and still wish some things had turned out differently. The holidays intensify all of this because they’re built around togetherness and tradition. When life has shifted, whether through loss, change, or transition, those same traditions can shine a spotlight on what’s missing. Grief doesn’t only come from death. It shows up after divorces, when friendships quietly disappear, when kids move far away, when your body changes in ways you didn’t expect, when you lose a job you cared about, when a parent no longer recognizes you. The holiday season is all about family, connection, and continuity, so when those things are disrupted, the pain feels sharper but every emotion you’re having makes sense. Even the ones that don’t seem to match.
Somewhere along the way, the holidays became less about experiencing them and more about performing them. You see it in commercials with flawless families and perfectly set tables. On social media, where everyone looks happy and glowing and deeply connected. In stores blasting cheerful music while strangers wish you a “Happy Holiday!” with the assumption that you’re having one. When your inner world doesn’t match that picture, the pressure to look okay can be exhausting. So you may find yourself smiling through dinner and saying “I’m fine” when you’re not. That kind of pretending takes energy you may not have and can make you feel isolated, like everyone else figured out how to enjoy this season and you somehow missed the memo. But the truth is, most people are performing at least a little. This idea that everyone should feel happy all at once only creates shame around completely normal emotions.
You don’t have to decide between grief and gratitude and you definitely don’t need to “finish” grieving before you’re allowed to enjoy something. They can exist together, even when it feels confusing. It starts with letting yourself name what you’re actually feeling, without correcting or judging it, and without adding “but I shouldn’t feel this way” or “others have it worse” or “I should just be grateful”. You can be grateful and sad. Those things are not opposites. They’re often deeply connected. We grieve because something or someone mattered and the depth of grief usually reflects the depth of love. Sometimes it helps to say it plainly: “I’m really glad to be here, and I really miss my dad” or “I appreciate this meal, and I also feel lonely”. Naming both truths can be a form of relief and it means you don’t have to pretend. If you’re moving through this season holding both grief and gratitude, here are a few gentle ideas.
Make space for remembrance. If you’re missing someone, you don’t have to hide it. Light a candle. Make their favorite dish. Tell a story about them. Take a quiet moment alone before socializing. Letting grief have a place can make it feel less overwhelming.
Give yourself permission to opt out. You don’t have to do everything the way you always have. You can say no. You can leave early. You can change traditions or skip them altogether this year.
Have a few grounding tools ready. Big emotions will show up and when they do, it helps to know what soothes you. Stepping outside for fresh air, texting someone safe, sitting alone for a few minutes, slowing your breathing. You don’t have to power through.
Write things down. Journaling can help untangle mixed emotions. You might try prompts like:
“What I’m grieving this season is…”
“What’s been unexpectedly comforting is…”
“The hardest part right now is…”
Find one or two safe people. Not everyone needs your full story, but having someone who can hear it without trying to fix you can make a huge difference. People who can sit with discomfort are rare and incredibly valuable.
Notice small gratitudes. Gratitude doesn’t have to be big. It can look like enjoying a warm drink, a quiet moment, a kind message, or just getting through the day. Small comforts and big grief can exist side by side.
Help someone else if it feels right. Sometimes caring for others brings a sense of connection and purpose. Not as a way to avoid your feelings, but as a reminder that you can be hurting and still show up.
One of the hardest parts of this season is feeling like you have to hide how you’re really doing. If there are people you trust, consider letting them know where you are. It doesn’t have to be a big conversation. It can sound like, “this year feels different for me” or “I might step away sometimes, and that’s why”. Honesty often creates more connection and it gives others permission to be real too. The holidays will pass, but how you move through them matters. You can force your way through and perform until you’re exhausted, or you can let yourself be human, messy, and real. If someone you loved told you they felt both grateful and heartbroken, you wouldn’t ask them to choose. You’d most likely understand, offer kindness, and hold space. You deserve that same compassion. The holidays don’t require you to be anything other than who you are right now.