When I was a child I would count down the days until Halloween…no, not because of being able to trick or treat (I lived in the woods with no neighbors) or because of costumes (by the time “trunk or treat” came around, I was too old for that!) but because my mom made me wait until Halloween was over before I could pull out my tiny artificial Christmas tree and blast Christmas carols on my boom box. It was back in the day of BMG and Columbia House music subscriptions, so for months leading up to November 1, I would use my hard earned allowance to purchase new Christmas CDs so that they would be ready to go! It didn’t hurt that living in Northern Minnesota also usually meant there was snow on the ground by then, so it felt very Christmas-y. 

I loved Christmas–it felt magical. I loved decorating, I loved being on the worship team for the Christmas Eve service, I loved wrapping gifts, and don’t even get me started on how much I loved Hallmark Christmas movies (I mean c’mon…who doesn’t love how original their plotlines are?!? Kidding!)

Even when I began deconstructing I continued to love the merriment around Christmas. Until I didn’t. Because Christmas felt painful. Because it felt like a lie. Because it felt confusing. Because I didn’t know what I was celebrating. Because I didn’t know if all that I had been told and taught and had believed was actually true. 

Christmas music felt intolerable. I couldn’t bring myself to decorate my house. I faked joy at Christmas parties with friends and family. I couldn’t even come up with gift ideas for loved ones to get me. 

It was like this for many years. 

I’m at a different place now as it pertains to my relationship with the holiday season, but this is something that I’ve reflected on a lot–this process of deconstructing your faith, or for some leaving it entirely, and how that impacts every area of your life, including holidays. 

And, as if trying to figure out the ins and outs of what you believe and how you want to celebrate…or if you want to celebrate, for many of us we are having to navigate this in secret (at least initially!) Since we are unsure of what we think or believe, we have to go with the flow while secretly fuming or weeping inside. We have to sing the songs, because we don’t want people asking questions. We have to go to the parties and family gatherings and listen to the Christmas story and generally be involved, because the thought of letting down the people that are closest to us with our questions or the changes we have made feels unbearable. 

Holidays are really difficult when going through faith transitions. Often, holidays are still hard even if you  have come out the other side of a faith transition. And, the holidays can often bring on stress, triggers, isolation, and sometimes even being re-traumatized. Simply put, for so many people, this definitely isn’t the most wonderful time of the year. 

I wish I could say that I had a list of things that you could do that would make this less stressful, painful or triggering. Or a way to make navigating the holidays during or after deconstruction, deconversion, or faith transitions go smoothly, but I don’t have that for you (insert groan!) Truthfully, you wouldn’t want that from me anyways–since how you navigate this needs to be your own way so that its tailored to you. 

Holidays can be difficult for many people, regardless of experiences within fundamentalism or high control religion and if you have religious trauma. But for those of you that this is your first or second holiday season apart from your religion of origin, this may be the first time you’ve experienced it being difficult. I want you to know that my heart is with you as this can be a very intense time. 

I may not have a to-do list for you to make things go seamlessly. What I do have for you, however, is empathy…and the reminder that you are not alone in all of this. 

Truly, I think what made so many years so difficult was truly feeling like I was alone; I began deconstructing when Facebook was only available for college students! So I had no idea that there were other people who had experienced what I had and felt the same way. On those silent nights with no Christmas tree lit up, I cried to myself; big tears hit the pages of my journals as I wondered through pen and paper how to navigate what felt insurmountable. I remember that pain, so I can empathize with you, if this is how you feel. 

That message of “you are not alone” is one that I want to reiterate. Not as a way to bypass pain or not deal with very real wounds. It’s important because knowing that there are others who are asking the same questions, wondering if or how to celebrate, struggling to know how to navigate family dynamics, not sure if they should go to church with their family, uncertain if they can or should listen to Christmas music, or if they should boycott the holiday season all together…there are so many people that are walking this path together and we do have each other.