If celebration feels complicated right now

Tomorrow is the 4th of July holiday here in the U.S. However, my holiday usually begins early, as my neighborhood hosts an annual big street party on July 3rd. We come together over food, friends, and music. It’s usually a great time. But when I was asked about my weekend plans earlier this week, I could sense my own lack of enthusiasm.

To be honest, I don’t feel very patriotic right now. As a deeply feeling person, the violence, dehumanization, and cruelty I’m witnessing cross the line of values I hold dear. That makes “celebrating” this holiday — one that’s supposed to be about freedom, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness — feel complicated.

Coincidentally — or perhaps not so coincidentally — I attended a workshop on Friday with my mentor, Joanna, about the coaching skills of celebration and creating awareness. And wouldn’t you know it? I heard exactly what I needed to hear.

Sometimes, before we can celebrate, we must truly honor what is. The grief. The pain. The frustration. The anger.

Feel it. Express it. Honor it. Ideally, with someone who can witness and hold space for those feelings, too.

This isn’t about venting, arguing, or needing to be right. It’s about not pretending. It’s about not bypassing. It’s about telling the truth of what’s present — even when it’s hard.

And it’s through the honoring of what is that something new can begin to emerge. Maybe a small release of the heaviness. Maybe a quiet moment of connection or joy.

For me, after naming and honoring what was real, an 8-minute “wake-up call” began playing after I finished a different podcast. In it, Amanda Doyle reminded me that the 4th of July was never meant to be a celebration of blind, loyal nationalism. The Declaration of Independence was an act of resistance. A declaration of freedom from tyranny. A reclaiming of the promise of liberty and justice for all.

Tomorrow doesn't need to be celebrated out of loyalty. This weekend can be an opportunity to recommit to my values of equity, compassion, and collective care. I realized I could write letters, donate, or redirect my dollars toward the kind of freedom I do believe in. Maybe I'll gather with friends and raise a glass — not to perfection, but to possibility. We get to hold the pain and the vision. And this feels better to me.

So maybe take a few moments this week to pause and check in with yourself. What’s real for you right now? What wants to be felt, not fixed? And what might become possible when you give yourself permission to feel it all?

That, too, is a kind of freedom. We get to honor what’s true and still choose what matters most.