It’s almost that time of year again.
The dreaded back-to-school season.
A time when social media floods with smiling children holding chalkboards proudly declaring their age, grade, and what they want to be when they grow up. Each of those photos feels like a punch to the gut – a reminder of what will never be for my son.
Back-to school season is extra complicated in my house because I also have a daughter heading back to school. I’m so proud of her. She’s brave and kind and growing into such a creative, beautiful tiny human. I want to fully show up for her. I want to celebrate her and stay present in that joy.
But it’s not easy.
Because grief doesn’t take the season off. It’s always with us.
wHEN gRIEF AND jOY COLLIDE
The start and end of each school year are especially paintful markers of time.
My son should be starting fifth grade.
Fifth. Grade.
Sometimes I can’t even wrap my head around that fact. I see his former classmates growing up – becoming complex, funny, talented young people. The toddlers I once knew now look so different, their baby faces stretched into the beginnings of adulthood.
And my son is frozen in time. Forever two.
It feels like yesterday he fell asleep holding my hair in his tiny fist. It feels like yesterday he giggled when petting the neighborhood cat. It feels like yesterday he walked with swagger and danced to a fiddle tune.
It’s all so damn unfair.
So how do i survive this season?
I don’t have a magic formula. But I have learned a few things that help me stay afloat during this bittersweet, emotionally heavy time of year.
Feel Your Feelings
Grief doesn’t expire. It’s okay to be sad-even if it’s been five years, ten years or more.
There is no timeline. There is no “moving on.” Take time to feel. I’ve spent my fair share of time trying to dull those feelings, but eventually they always rise to the top. It’s important to set aside time to feel them.
I cry in the shower or alone in the car. It hurts. It is a pain I wish on no one.
Child loss becomes part of who we are. It reshapes our hearts.
Let yourself feel it, without guilt.
Unplug
take a break from social media
You don’t need to see every first-day photo. You’re not a bad friend for logging off. Your mental health matters more than clicking the “like” button.
take a break from the news
The world feels extra heavy right now. War, conflict disasters, political division-it’s a lot.
Taking a break doesn’t mean you’re apathetic. It means you’re human. And it’s okay to protect your peace.
journal
Let the words come out. Whether it’s rage, sadness, gratitude, or confusion—writing can be a powerful release.
I LOVE a journal, a blank notebook. It feels like unlocked potential to me. But admittedly, I am terrible at maintaining a routine of writing in it on a daily basis. One system I have stuck with over the years is Ryder Carroll’s Bullet Journal Method. Ryder built a productivity system that he accurately describes as part productivity system, part mindfulness practice. It allows you to pick up that notebook you wrote in 10 years ago and start again when you are ready. It allows you to tailor the system for your personal needs. Just as it states on the website, The Bullet Journal Method will help you track the past, order the present and design the future. It rolls into one system the ability to organize your thoughts and your calendar. It provides an outlet for “to do” lists and reflection as well as creativity.
I love using my journal for to lists, many of which I will never complete, but then being able to turn the page and just write about about how I’m feeling. Just write things I don’t care to speak aloud. Sometimes just write a letter to my son.
rest
Take a walk.
Take a nap.
Take a shower.
Take a breath.
Stay in bed.
Just be.
create something
I had a therapist once ask me if I wanted to “paint with my feelings” and I was so annoyed. My kid just died I don’t want to paint with my effing feelings. I want my kid back. While that wasn’t the right time for me to create, I do think there is something to be said for the benefit of creating something as a form of healing.
Paint. Draw. Bake. Write. Garden. Do something with your hands or your heart.
connect
Sometimes what helps the most is reaching out to someone who gets it. I’ll often text my friend who also lost her son and we’ll share memories… or make wildly inappropriate jokes only we would understand. That connection matters. That connection has been my lifeline.
do you need a pain pal?
Are you struggling during back-to-school season?
Do you wish you had someone to vent to—someone who understands what it’s like to parent a child who isn’t physically here?
Interested in connecting through handwritten letters? Do you think writing might help you process your grief?
If so, I invite you to sign up for my brand-new Pain Pal Project.
It’s like having a pen pal, but we’re connected by our shared pain, not just our pens.
The pain of losing a child. The pain that never fully fades, but that softens when shared.
You are not alone.
Not in this season.
Not in your grief.
Not in your healing.
We can carry it together.