Ho-Ho-Holidays?

Holidays. ’Tis the season to be jolly, right? The season of parties for hosting, marshmallows for toasting and caroling out in the snow?

But sometimes, the holidays aren't always merry and bright. Sometimes, I feel less like decking the halls and more like Grandma got run over by a reindeer.

However, this time of year we are bombarded with images of peace and love. Of holiday parties and festive gatherings. Of freakin' jubilant people everywhere. From social media to commercials to advertisements - the holidays are filled with cheerful families whose loved one hasn’t just died.

But the picture perfect images rarely reflect the reality. The truth is, the holidays are tough on many people, even if their Instagram feed tells a different story.

If you look back at photos of Brad’s final Thanksgiving, you’ll see a perfectly set table. You’ll see friends and family standing around our kitchen counter, sharing stories and cocktails. You’ll see laughter, joy, and a whole lot of togetherness.

What you won’t see is pain. Extreme, debilitating pain that incapacitated Brad, imprisoning him to our bed for most of the week. What you won’t see is the emergency trip to the hospital, where we remained for the entire next week. What you won’t see is the heartache when we learned of Brad’s extensive tumor growth.

Christmas wasn’t much different. Photos show us smiling and laughing with our nieces and nephews. You’ll see me as the perfect host to the constant rotation of visitors, stopping by to spread cheer. You’ll see Brad and I dressed up in our festive outfits during our annual holiday “Get Frosted” party. You’ll see joyful celebrations.

What you won’t see is the exhaustion from a house filled with around-the-clock guests. You won’t see countless restless nights waking up in a panic because Brad was having a psychotic dream, where I had to determine if the dream was a result of the pain meds or a stroke. You won’t see me crying over a sink full of dishes because being a wife and a caregiver and a nurse and the host of holiday cheer was too much to handle.

And New Year’s Eve was much of the same. In the photos you’ll see a romantic surf and turf dinner - our favorite for special occasions - with just the two of us. You’ll see friends joining us for an intimate gathering to ring in the new year. You’ll see living room dancing and late night singing. You’ll see champagne and sparklers.

What you won’t see is the pain of realizing Brad wouldn’t live to see another year. What you won’t see is the confusion Brad experienced as the cancer started to shut down his organs. What you won’t see is a man in so much debilitating pain that he can no longer get dressed or use the bathroom without help.

Sometimes photos are nothing but a damn lie.

Whether you’re struggling because of a diagnosis, grieving the loss of a loved one, caring for a sick family member, or you just fucking hate the pressure and expectations of this season, holidays are hard. They are full of triggers and negative memories and reminders of what no longer is.

And being surrounded by all those smiling holiday photos, not only reminds you of your own struggle, but also leads to feelings of isolation.

Everyone else is happy, why aren’t I?

But here’s the thing. The posed family photos. The perfectly decorated Christmas tree. The outfits and the parties. They’re not real. Behind each of those pictures is hundred different emotions. Pain and heartache and sadness and yes, oftentimes genuine joy.

So next time when you’re scrolling through your feed of overly jovial people or watching the billionth Hallmark holiday movie where - spoiler! - it all works out in the end, let’s just remember that it’s all bullshit. We’’re all struggling. We’re all balancing a myriad of emotions. And we’re all just doing our best to survive the season.

Happy holidays my friends. Whether or not this is the most wonderful time of the year, I wish you comfort and joy (forced or otherwise).