Feeling Dread Before the Holidays?
How to Navigate the Season When Your Heart Just Wants to Hide
The Quiet Weight of October
Even though it’s October, you can already feel it, can’t you?
The holidays are creeping closer. Store aisles are filling with decorations. We’re already beginning to see some commercials that tell you how joyful you should be—but for the grieving heart, that’s a constant reminder that can honestly feel like pressure building inside of us.
The dread starts early. The calendar turns, and suddenly you’re face to face with memories, expectations, and the ache of what used to be. It’s a season that’s challenging for most of us and quietly becomes a time of survival.
I know this season can feel impossible, friend. The world says it’s a time to celebrate, but your heart just really wants to hide. You may be running from the pain, or you may be frozen by it. But peace isn’t found in escaping the ache. It’s found when you slow down long enough to let God hold you in it.
God’s Presence in the Ache
“The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” — Exodus 14:14 (NLT)
Peace begins where striving ends.
Stillness doesn’t mean doing nothing—it means releasing the need to hold everything together. It means letting God fight for you in the middle of what feels impossible.
The Sound of Rain on the Leaves
The first holiday after Andrew went to Heaven was basically a big blur. Andrew went to Heaven on November 30th, 2018, and the tree was already up. Most of the gifts were already purchased and wrapped and under the tree, and I don’t really have to explain to you what that was like.
It’s still a painful memory, but I’m able to talk about it today. The second Christmas felt like my first, because I didn’t even feel human for that first one. I remember the dread that started about this time, because fall was always my favorite time of the year. And that went away for a while, friend. I’ll be honest—because fall, October, was the last time that Andrew and spent time together-mother and son.
Andrew and I spent some time together just about eleven days before he went to Heaven, raking all the leaves in our backyard. To me, I equated death with fall. It was a difficult time for me to overcome.
The sound of rain dropping on the leaves was a massive trigger for me, because Andrew’s accident happened on a Friday morning—and in November, there were lots of leaves on the ground. The sound of rain dropping on the leaves was a constant reminder of Andrew’s death because Friday evening it began to rain.
And because they would not allow me on the crash site, I could not grasp what was happening. We didn’t get confirmation of Andrew’s death until Sunday. So in my mind, he was alive, laying somewhere, trying to survive—and now it was raining. And he was wondering where I was, and why I wasn’t there?
It made me feel anger. It made me feel shame. It made me feel like a failure every time it would rain. The sound, or even seeing it out the window, was a massive trigger that I had to learn to work through.
But here’s hope, friend: you’re hearing me talk about it right now, and I’m not falling apart. Yes, it’s still part of my memory—but it doesn’t hijack my body anymore, because of the grief work that I’ve done. I’ve been able to process those triggers.
When Motion Feels Safer Than Emotion
The first place we often go during this time of year when we are grieving is emotional avoidance.
Grief often drives us to do, because motion feels safer than emotion.
We don’t want to feel it, so we fill our days with busy. That way, we never have to really stop and feel.
But here’s what I want you to understand about emotional avoidance: it’s a temporary relief. It makes us feel like we’re doing something, so at least we’re not being lazy. But that false sense of control has a short fuse.
Emotional avoidance will eventually leave you empty. The truth is—we cannot heal what we refuse to face.
And friend, the best example I can give you is Jesus.
In John 11, when He raised Lazarus from the dead, Jesus wept.
He took time to be present in the moment.
He wept even though He knew the outcome.
That’s the kind of God we serve.
He didn’t push past His sorrow—He allowed Himself to feel it.
And when you’re emotionally avoiding the pain, you’re not allowing yourself to be present.
When Grief Shuts You Down
The opposite of emotional avoidance is when our grief completely shuts us down.
Some moms find themselves in that space where they can’t do anything. It’s not because they don’t care—it’s because their body and mind are overwhelmed. That’s what trauma does. It freezes us.
And this is what I hear from so many moms: “I’m just so lazy.” But friend, you’re not lazy. You’re experiencing the trauma of what you’ve been through.
I do want to mention, though, that staying in that frozen place too long can become a trap. Isolation begins to grow louder. The world starts to get smaller. And before you know it, you’ve lost days, weeks, or even months without a single flicker of light or connection with others—maybe even inside your own home.
God never asks you to sprint through your grief.
We often hear that grief is a marathon—but what that really means is one small step at a time.
If it feels overwhelming to cook, clean, or plan a holiday celebration—that’s not where you start. You start much smaller.
Step outside. Feel the fresh air. Let the sun hit your face.
Our bodies were designed for light—for rhythm. Without it, rest is hard to find.
And if you’re so paralyzed that you can’t move at all, open your Bible and read one Psalm out loud. Just one.
Or text a friend and say, “Today, I’m having a really hard day. Can you pray for me?”
That small act of reaching out breaks the silence grief tries to build around you.
Opening the Door to Peace
Whether you’ve been running nonstop or completely shut down, the invitation is the same: slow down just enough to let God in.
You see, peace begins where striving ends.
You’ve heard me say many times, “I’ve knocked on that door so much my knuckles are engraved in it.” But here’s what I want you to hear today—God is also knocking on your door.
When you’re so busy going from one thing to the next, you can’t hear His gentle knock. Peace begins when you open the door and let Him in.
That knock says, “Can I come in and sit with you a while? We don’t have to talk. I just want to be with you.”
Maybe that moment happens in your car before walking into the house. Maybe it’s while listening to the Bible app on your drive home.You don’t need a plan or perfect words.
Those small pauses are where peace begins to take root, no matter what’s happening around you.
🎧 Listen to the Full Episode
Listen to Episode 224: Feeling Dread Before the Holidays? Here’s What to Do Next on The Grief Mentor Podcast.
You’ll hear Teresa’s full story, her reflections on emotional avoidance, and practical ways to find peace when grief and the holidays collide.
Next Steps
If it’s your first holiday season without your child walking beside you, I want to say this: it’s okay if you want the season to disappear. It’s okay if you don’t want to decorate. It’s okay if you say no to protect your space.
Peace doesn’t mean pretending. Peace is the quiet understanding that your God is near.
As we head into the holiday season, I’m offering a special holiday rate for the 1:1 Grief Mentor Sessions — a quiet space where you and I can process what you’re carrying and create a simple, faith-centered plan for the season.
After our time together, you’ll receive a new printable guide I created just for you:
“Peace for the Holidays: A Simple Plan for Grieving Moms.”
If that sounds like something that could help you, click HERE to book your session today.(offer good until November 22nd)
Friend, you don’t have to rush through this season. Don’t miss the beauty around you because you’re afraid of what’s ahead.
Peace doesn’t come from doing more—or from doing nothing.
It comes from resting in the One who holds you through it all.
Remember this: you are not forgotten. You are deeply loved.
And even in this, God is near.
