Working through Grief While Finding Joy in a Quiet Christmas

Hey there and hola!

Christmas Day this year will be different for me. For the first time since my husband’s passing, I’ve decided to spend it alone. There will be no large gathering, no festive chaos, no time spent at parties or with friends. Instead, it will be just me, my two chihuahuas, and a quiet space where I can reflect and savor the things I love. Although Christmas in Mexico is rarely serene, with fireworks unsettling dogs at all hours, this choice feels right for where I am in life.

Spending Christmas on my own terms means turning inward rather than seeking validation or connection elsewhere.

I’ll spend the holiday rediscovering joys I once struggled to take pleasure in, like reading.

After my husband passed, I found it hard to focus. The words on the page danced before my eyes, and I couldn’t recall what I had read. Now that I can, reading feels like reconnecting with a long-lost friend returning from a journey abroad.

After Christmas, I’ll begin an online art course that excites me. Painting allows me to channel complex feelings of sorrow into something tangible, providing an emotional outlet that words alone cannot. It also teaches me to face life’s uncertainties with curiosity and creativity, rather than rushing to find solutions.

Life is full of surprises, often challenging ones, but I’m slowly learning to face them with curiosity and resilience. Like reading, art has become a vital part of my healing process.

For me, this is the art of living in solitude, where fulfillment is found in activities that nurture my creativity and sense of self.

Admittedly, sometimes it feels strange to prioritize my own needs, but I’m learning that I matter too.

Reflecting on my marriage, I wish my husband had taken the time to truly understand me on an emotional level, that is, to study me, so to speak, rather than depending on me to spell out my needs to him. I’m sure I’m not the only spouse who has had rely on herself because her own desires had taken a backseat. Love takes a lot of work, and for some, the responsibility and emotional labor can be too much—a truth about my own marriage that I acknowledge without casting judgment.

That emotional gap, the feeling of being unseen, taught me to rely on myself, supported by the care of trusted friends. Now, solitude feels less and less like loneliness and more like an opportunity to reclaim my space and honor my needs, free from guilt or shame, especially during the holidays.

Embracing solitude has been deeply restorative for me. Grief often arises from loss (whether of loved ones, relationships, or unmet expectations), but spending time alone has allowed me to process those emotions and create new, meaningful memories. I’m discovering that holidays don’t have to revolve around external pressures but instead they can be an opportunity to nurture my soul.

Of course, this doesn’t mean I’m cutting myself off from the world forever. I know that by February, once my friends have recovered from the disorder of the holidays and vacations, we’ll resume our usual get-togethers. But for now, I’m content with following my own rhythm.

If you’re considering a similar path, I’d encourage you to start small. Solitude isn’t something to fear. View it as an opportunity to reconnect with yourself. Whether through a creative pursuit, learning something new, or simply curling up with a good book, there’s beauty in finding joy on your own terms.

This holiday season, as I focus on self-discovery, I plan to immerse myself in the book, The Act of Creating: A Way of Being by Rick Rubin, work on my art, and perhaps even bake something purely just for fun.

After all, joy is vital nourishment for the soul, as is the peace found in listening to the quiet within.

This quiet Christmas is not just a reflection on the past, but also, a chance to envision a future where peace, self-compassion, and creativity guide my journey.

Hasta pronto amigas y amigos . . .