Mika: Forget ‘Merry’ — Why I’ll settle for an ‘OK’ Christmas

The holidays are upon us. 

So often, and for so many, this time of year is filled with warmth and joy. For many others, it’s a hard walk down memory lane — with a side of pain, an extra heaping of disappointment and a main course of grief.

This year, I’m in all those groups. I’m grieving and feeling like a failure. At the same time, I’m also able to see that there are many blessings to count. Afterall, several things can be true at the same time.

My mom passed away last year. Both of my parents are now gone. And the recent death of a family friend, former First Lady Rosalyn Carter — triggered a hard truth: a beautiful chapter in my life is over.

Mika Brzezinski as a child with her parents and two brothers during ChristmasCourtesy of Mika Brzezinski

I’ve been reflecting on the incredible life that my parents created in their old farmhouse in McLean, Virginia. I yearn for it. I am so happy my daughters and their cousins got to see what the holidays with my parents, “Chief” and “Bamba” were like.

We would share wishes for each other before Christmas Eve dinner. My mother would read a prayer. Chief would sneak off and come back dressed as the most disturbing Santa Claus the world has ever seen. 

Sticking to Polish tradition, we would open presents on Christmas Eve. My dad would light the fire and he and my mom would sit on chairs that practically looked like thrones. And then, with the air of a king and queen, they would hand out gifts. 

My mother would decorate the house in the same lights she used throughout most of her and my dad’s 64 years of marriage. She’d cut holly and evergreens from her garden to decorate the dining room table and front doorways. The house would smell of my grandmother’s recipes for meringue cookies and shortbread. The walls would shake with the sounds of uncontrollable laughter when my dad would gather all of the youngest kids to play his favorite game “Shame.” It was a twisted little game he made up. Chief would find a trash can, crumple up a piece of paper into a ball, and ask each child to try and throw the paper into the trash can, taking a step away each time they made it. If the paper did not make it in the trash can, my dad and the kids would put on an angry face and scream “SHAMMMMME!” at the top of their lungs, really drawing out the word for a long time and then collapsing in laughter.

Zbigniew and Emilie Brzezinski Courtesy of Mika Brzezinski

The game would end when it was time for dinner and the breaking of bread blessed by the Pope.

Those times were beautiful. And those times are also behind us.

I’m trying to make peace with the fact that my feelings are natural. Just about everyone is going to feel a certain degree of sadness as we get older. And these wistful feelings are often so powerful because there was so much love. 

I know I will never be able to re-create even half the magic that my parents packed into our memories. Sometimes, I feel like a failure who can’t even get a holiday together practically at all.

I went through a divorce, and the family disorder that followed meant the holidays now look different. And with my parents now gone, I often feel ill-equipped to even know where to begin when it comes to creating a “happy holiday.” The more I try, the more it looks and feels forced at a time when things really just need to breathe. I realize now that we sometimes just have to take a moment to sit in our pain, whether it be consequences of decisions made or the powerful grief over loved ones lost. Joe has been so patient and supportive watching me try ever so hard to make things perfect only to feel like a holiday “fail.”

Young Mika Brzezinski with her parents during the holidays.Courtesy Mika Brzezinski

This year, though, I’m going to try to *not* try so hard!  No, really! I am working on accepting that some things are in the past and I’m holding on to gratitude for those amazing memories. I want to let go of expectations of having a holiday that matches those in the past. And it may even be a little sad. It’s OK to not have a “Merry” Christmas or a “Happy” Hanukkah. If your holiday is just “OK” — like I’m hoping for myself — well, that’s OK too. 

When my dad died in 2017, the holidays were especially hard for my mom. I had a gradual realization that I couldn’t make Bamba truly happy. I couldn’t recreate the past. So, I decided that helping her have an “OK” time,” MAYBE even making her laugh a few times, was achievable and meaningful. I learned that sometimes it’s OK to sit in your sorrow, and that sometimes people actually need to embrace the loss they’ve experienced. Part of surviving holiday depression is acceptance. Not just of others. Acceptance of yourself, your choices, and the implications those choices have had on the entire family dynamic. If this piece hits home for you, please consider this:

Some holidays are simply a bridge to a hopeful future. 

It’s a bridge to a new set of memories in the making. 

It doesn’t have to perfect, or even close to perfect …for now.

When you go from your 20s and 30s, to your 40s and 50s — and beyond, you’re going to go through many changes, including some you did not see coming. No matter how perfectly you plan your life, things aren’t always going to go the way you imagine. Some of those stages will feel amazing, like you’re on top of the world. Others will make you despair. And that is OK. Know that you’re not alone. According to the American Psychological Association, 38 percent of people say their stress increases during the holiday season, which can lead to physical illness, depression and anxiety.

You are not alone.

I still feel my parents’ presence. And I’ll do my best this Christmas.

Mika Brzezinski’s family opening presents.Courtesy of Mika Brzezinski

My daughters and I might decorate our Christmas tree with my mom’s ornaments she bought at a market in Poland. I’ll put out my mom’s festive tablecloth that she bought in Prague. I’ll attempt to bake my grandmother’s cookies and I will put out small tokens from each of my parents — like a little chess piece my mom made out of clay and an artifact from a far away place that sat on my father’s desk for years. I’ll call my brothers, Mark in Poland and Ian in Washington D.C., and I’m sure we will reminisce about our incredible parents. And for me, I’m just going to try and keep it real, leaving room for growth in the years to come.

This holiday season, it may feel little quiet and a little too different. It definitely won’t look anything like those incredible gatherings in McLean. Sometime soon, I hope we cross the bridge into the future and create new traditions and make new memories.

We will be happy at times and sad at others. In the end, we’ll be OK.

And so will you. You can do this.

I want to wish you an OK Christmas, from the bottom of my heart.