{first} holidays

During my time at Ridgview Institute I spent a lot of time discussing “space” with my

supervisor. One day he noticed that itʼs a term I use often, but he was unclear as to 

whether or not I could define what exactly I was talking about.

Eventually we took an entire 30 minutes out of our supervision time to discuss what this 

“space” I always spoke of actually was.

I eventually said… “it is whatever the client needs it to be in the moment. Sometimes our 

clients need us to shut up and give them room to hear their own thoughts and be still 

with their own emotions. Sometimes they need us to hold that silence for a long time as 

they fight their way to the answers they are seeking.” I said, “we cannot be too quick to 

jump in and give a reflective statement or offer new insight. So many times our patients 

simply need to get to the end of themselves and take the brave look at what is there.”

A few weeks ago, one of the pastors at NPCC gave a message on this being “first” 

holidays for many people. The first holiday someone is with a spouse, the first holiday someone is without a spouse, or  since a loved one was diagnosed with a serious illness, the first holiday since divorce, or the first holiday with no kids returning home, etc.

For so many this season is certainly a season of “firsts,” myself included. And maybe 

the best thing we can do for ourselves is find this “space” my supervisor and I took so 

much time to understand.

Maybe we need to allow ourselves space to grieve, to feel, to remember. Not to shy 

away from or hide. Instead to pay attention to what hurts, what is causing us to hide from the cheer of the holidays, or what is causing us to be bitter, cranky, or extra teary-eyed. 

You see our pain loses some of it’s all-consuming power when we stop trying to hide from it.

Maybe instead of sinking deeper into the dark spaces that taunt us when things get hard, we need space to be with those who care for us. We need to set aside our pride and allow ourselves to be cared for, to be loved on by those who love us most. To be seen when we want to disappear. It might just be time to let go of the lies that people no longer care about your pain.

Feel it. Accept it. Grieve it. And then invite someone in. 

And then find something that makes you happy. Find something new that you love. Remember the memories that bring you pain and then look to find the ones you might want to recreate. 

Then muster up the courage to do so.

Cheers to your amazingly beautiful courage, friends.