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I remember the first year that I was not “home for the holidays.” I was in graduate school at the University of Colorado studying a dual degree in social work and law. For my internship, I worked at Karis Community in Denver, a long-term (6-18 month) residential transition home for people living with serious mental health diagnoses. When it was time to decide who was going to stay with the residents for the holidays, I was the least senior and was asked to be present during Thanksgiving, Christmas/Hannukah, and New Year’s Eve/Day.
My large family lives in New England, and it was not feasible to spend one day to spend time with loved ones. The holidays are celebrated with joy in our family, and it is a time to balance sadness and loss with love and ritual. At first, I felt resentful, cheated, and frustrated. But once I dug deeper, my feelings stemmed from the loss of the connection that comes from spending time with your birth family or your love family. When I reflected further, I realized that many folks at Karis were not going home for the holidays either. Some of them have lived with serious behavioral illness that consequently alienated them from their loved ones. Others had difficulty making and keeping connections with others, and they were used to feeling alone, abandoned and dreading the holidays.
Done with feeling sorry for myself, I decided to make lemonade out of my perceived basket of lemons. We incorporated all the traditions that I was accustomed to at my folks’ home as well as other residents’ favorites. Because I was with the residents of Karis Community from Thanksgiving to New Year’s Day, we celebrated in style. For Thanksgiving, we had a community-cooked meal with only a few mishaps (most of the pies were not burned). We had a lovely tree that we made decorations for, we created homemade gifts, and we shared holiday cards with our favorite poems and sayings. The residents and I learned more about other traditions that folks celebrated in the community, and we added them to our plans. On New Year’s Eve, we celebrated together and made the evening special.
Do you know what? Two years later, I was living at Karis Community as one of two on-site clinical crisis counselors. When it was time to draw straws for the holidays, I gladly volunteered to be present again for all three major celebrations.
The holidays can be painful and isolating for many. People living with serious behavioral and physical illness struggle at this time of year. Also, healthcare workers often must work during this time of year, and they have adjusted to not spending the holiday with family. One thing I learned from this experience is that as a social worker, therapist and later a palliative care community specialist, my presence can be healing to those who are experiencing loss during the holidays. Not that I can take away the pain, but I can be a balm of soothing that might lessen it for a while. I also learned that we could create community and that is “home” for celebrating and connection.
Please take a minute to read the following article about serious illness and the importance of ritual:
Butler, C et al. 2025. Reclaiming ritual in palliative care: A hermeneutic narrative review | Palliative & Supportive Care | Cambridge Core, Palliative and Supportive Care,23, e49,
1–10. https://doi.org/10.1017/S1478951524001767
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