A Quiet Offering for the Holidays

Navigating Milestones & Anniversaries
Written By Dawn Geoppinger

A trauma-informed course to support you through holiday grief.

Soft candlelight by a window on a quiet winter day, evoking stillness and reflection.

The holidays can carry a strange duality—the world bright with lights, while grief moves quietly beneath the surface.

Even years after a loss, this season can stir memories, absence, and longing in ways that surprise us.

I created Grieving Through the Holidays for moments like these—not to fix grief, but to offer steadiness, permission, and gentle grounding when emotions rise.

For a short time, I’ve opened a Holiday Support Window and made the course available at a reduced, accessible rate of $111. This window is open December 30 - January 1.

This isn’t a promotion driven by urgency.

It’s an offering rooted in care—for those who want support now, or simply want to know it’s there.

If it feels right, you’re welcome to join. If not, may you continue to move through this season with as much softness as possible.

🕊 Learn more here

When the world moves on, grief often stays. Not loudly.
Not urgently. It lingers in the body —
in the shoulders that won’t soften,
in the breath that never quite deepens,
in the fatigue that sleep doesn’t touch. Renewal in grief
Many people begin the year hoping for change—
and quietly fearing they’ll fall back into the same patterns once life gets busy again. If motivation alone hasn’t created lasting change for you, that doesn’t mean you’re d
You don’t have to explain your grief here, Friend. You don’t have to summarize it.
Justify it.
Or make it make sense. Some forms of self-care aren’t about doing anything at all. They’re about being somewhere you don’t
January can feel quieter than expected.
Heavier, even. After the holidays, many people experience a drop in energy, motivation, or emotional steadiness—especially when grief, loss, or life transitions are part of the picture. This isn’t
January isn’t a reset. It’s a listening season. The world may be pushing for goals and momentum, but grief asks for something different. It asks: What feels tender? What feels tired? What needs care — not correction? This isn&rsq
You’re allowed to move slowly this year, Friend. Slowness isn’t avoidance. It’s attunement. Especially in grief, your body sets the pace — not the calendar. You don’t need to catch up. You don’t need to prove re
A few days after the holidays ended, the quiet got louder. Not dramatic. Not overwhelming. Just… heavier. That’s often how grief moves. It doesn’t disappear when the season changes — it shifts. If you’re noticing so
Dawn Geoppinger
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