Holiday Cards
How do you write a holiday card after a separation or divorce, or a significant loss? Spoiler alert: it’s fucking impossible the first year(s). Give yourself a break. You don’t HAVE to send one this year (or next year). It’s okay!
Year 0: The Year We Separated
The year we separated was the hardest. We started with a trial separation in late October, perfectly timed to coincide with the holidays. By mid-November it became apparent that it was less “trial,” and more permanent. I’d already mocked up the front of the family Christmas card, assuming we’d come back together after the trial and I’d have the willpower to write something remotely cheerful. I tried, over and over, to write the copy for the card. Should we publicly announce the separation? He didn’t want to (and he was right). Who wants to get a holiday card announcing an impending divorce? I wanted to tell a happy story about two people who were intentionally choosing to separate, to build happier lives for themselves and their children. It’s actually a really good story. I’m still writing it. But it wasn’t the right story for a holiday card. Here are my mockups from Year 0.
I sent these images to close friends and family and we had a good laugh. My family has always been able to find humor, even in the darkest times. Laughter heals. I decided NOT to send a card that year.
I enjoyed making our holiday card (postcard) every year. I liked the idea that we were happy. I loved the excuse to send love out into the world, and to connect with people who were important to us. I was proud of myself for making a postcard to save on printing and postage, and for doing something creative and unique instead of picking something a bit more generic. Oh, the silly things that bring us joy!
The message was always the same… “Happy everything! We did stuff this year. It was sooooo good, you know, because we’re so happy! Wishing you and yours health and happiness in the New Year! XOXO” One year we announced that we were pregnant. That was a great postcard. When the kids were little, I purchased second-hand elf onesies. When they got older I bought plain green shirts and sewed on the elf details. It was a tradition, a ritual. I loved it all.
I created Holiday Card “labels” in my Google Contacts every year. I’d export the list and print two copies. On my copy I highlighted the friends and family members I would hand write a greeting for; on Galen’s copy I highlighted the friends and family members he would hand write a greeting for. Every year we would pick a night, sit down with the lists and the stack of postcards, put on a movie or a show, and knock ‘em out. Looking back, he was a pretty good sport about it. I’m not sure he would have initiated the whole “send out a holiday card” thing… I vaguely remember him questioning me about it every year wondering why I wanted to spend the time and energy to do it, but he always split the list with me and wrote greetings. It was nice.
Year 1: The First Year Apart
The year after we separated and divorced, when I was feeling a bit more stable, I still couldn’t muster anything resembling cheer in the form of a holiday postcard. We’d lost my dad, I’d lost my job (but gotten a new one), my marriage had ended, and I’d moved out of our shared home. No more holiday card pictures in front of the fireplace.
I sat down several times to write copy for a holiday card and every time it just sounded so goddamn depressing or disingenuous. I thought maybe I could send a card announcing the change of address but how could I mention that I’d moved without mentioning the divorce? Impossible. Who would I send the card to?
When we’d split up all of our belongings, we didn’t go through our list of friends and family and divvy them up. I’d have to go through my Google “Holiday Card” list and figure out who to send the postcard to. It was all too much. And the message read something like: “I think I’m okay. I’m fine. Yeah, I mean there were some rough spots but… I’m fine. We moved. Well, I moved. Me and the kids. I have them half the time. I mean, that’s not important. Kids are good! Okay… happy… something… bye!”
Once again I gave myself permission NOT to send a holiday card. Instead I posted a blurry but happy photo of me and the kids with the blanket “Happy Everything” description in early December, and a picture of us again on Christmas day. I look so tired! It was the first Christmas post-divorce and it was my year to have the kids. I was happy to have them but I still felt so incredibly alone in a way that’s hard to explain. I didn’t miss my marriage, per se, but I missed the idea of a partner and the idea of the life we’d been building. My mom came and stayed with me. It was her second Christmas without my dad. I think we both appreciated the company and the happy distraction of little kids on Christmas Day.
Year 2: Things Start to Feel Normal
I knew I wasn’t going to have the kids on Christmas day in 2020. It would be my first Christmas without them and I wasn’t sure how I would feel, but I had this idea that I should try to brace for impact. Like a tidal wave of emotions might hit me at any time. I made plans to spend Christmas Eve with a good friend who had also recently separated and was also without children for Christmas. We made cocktails and good food, and I made her watch Scrooged. We had a great night. I slept in her daughter’s twin bed and I felt like I was with family… this new idea of family, a community. When you no longer have a primary partner, you realize the importance of, and strength in, friendship. My friendships outlasted my marriage and if I’m lucky enough to partner again, my friendships will likely outlast that relationship (men always die first). Sorry guys!
In November, I was pretty aggressively house shopping and excited about putting down roots (figurative and literal). I was feeling confident about being on my own, empowered even. As the holidays approached, I thought about sending a card but it still felt really hard. Again, I tried to write copy. Again, I wasn’t able to muster the appropriate amount of cheer, or whatever I needed. At this point we were also in the thick of a global pandemic. I think everyone was struggling to muster the right amount of cheer.
So instead, I wrote cocktail recipes and tried to connect with people through social. I spent time with my mom and sister. I told myself I might send a card in the New Year, announcing the change of address. I closed on a duplex December 14th and spent the last half of December and most of January moonlighting as a General Contractor. We moved in late January. I let go of the feeling that I “should” send a card but made a plan to send one in December of 2021.
Year 3: This Year
Well folks, I didn’t do it. I didn’t send a postcard. I thought about it a lot. I knew I could write a genuine holiday message this year. I bought matching pajamas for me and the kids. My mom took some pretty mediocre pictures (no offence Mom) that I probably could have made work. The thing that stopped me this year was the pace of life. Everything is moving so fast and there are so many different things to juggle and respond to. I feel like I’m the ball inside of a pinball machine most days. The onslaught of emails and notifications, the daily work of maintaining a home, half-time single parenting, my feeble attempts at self-care, rental maintenance (cuz I’m a fuckin’ land-lady!), the work it takes to maintain the relationships that matter most to me, the ongoing effort it takes to return to my maiden name (more about this in a future post!). Adulting is hard! So, no card this year. But maybe next year. We’ll see. I mean, don’t hold your breath… but we’ll see.
In conclusion, it’s okay (encouraged even!) to channel Elsa from Frozen and “let it go.” It’s okay to let go of the idea that you should send a holiday card. It’s okay to let go of traditions and rituals that no longer have a place in your life or no longer serve you. It’s okay. Let it go.
Happy Holidays everybody!
