Another New Year’s celebration has come and gone. For me, the reality of another year my daughter didn’t live to see is a painful one. Even many years after her death.

Whether your grief is fresh or seasoned, New Year’s celebration and traditions of new beginnings in the form of yearly resolutions can be extremely painful.

I often describe it as a “slap in the face” reminder that the world has moved on without my daughter—while I still think of her and miss her every day.

It all started in September 2009, when my 4-year-old daughter died in a sudden, tragic accident. In the weeks that followed, I worried about all the impending holidays involving family celebrations: Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. I was filled with dread and tried to plan for how I would handle each one.

New Year’s wasn’t on my mind because I had never been one to go out and celebrate while waiting for midnight. And yet, I was completely blindsided by just how painful the New Year’s holiday was when it finally approached. In the week between Christmas and New Year’s, I realized I was on edge and angry.

I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that a new year was already here, and my daughter wouldn’t be alive in it.

The fact that a new year was being celebrated by the rest of the world amid the crushing reality that she wouldn’t be alive in it made me downright angry. The idea of resolutions, hope, or fresh starts felt ridiculous. All I saw was overwhelming, never-ending pain before me.

Some of you may feel that same despair. The idea that anything good can ever happen again may feel impossible. Smiling, laughing, and enjoying life may feel like a betrayal of your loved one. And if you feel that way, it’s okay. It’s a very normal reaction to losing someone you built your life and your identity around.

When you’re ready, I encourage you to give yourself permission to look for hope again. But this time with a new perspective.

Perhaps it’s like a New Year’s resolution. But for those experiencing the overwhelming pain of grief, you can do it any time during the year.

I’m not talking about those resolutions that are doomed from the start because they’re too ambitious and too vague. Most people fail those resolutions because they try to take on too much at once. They don’t have a plan or the willpower to change the lifelong habits that are barriers to their goals.

The resolutions I’m suggesting are very specific, small, and achievable goals. Mini goals that are SO simple you do them. And if you do them consistently for a certain length of time, they become new habits. If I were to suggest mini goals based on my personal experience with grief, here are four:

Say or write ONE word that describes how you feel. Every day.

Our natural reaction to grief is to try to suppress the pain. Some stay in a state of denial, others keep busy (to distract from it), some numb it with drugs or alcohol, etc. The problem is that suppressing the pain only makes it worse—and often prolongs the severity of your pain.

By saying or writing one word that describes how you feel each day, you learn to start expressing your feelings. When you express feelings, you begin to work through them. When you work through them, you can ultimately let those painful feelings go. Words I used to describe how I felt in early grief included: despair, guilt, panic, fatigued, hopeless, numb, disbelief, angry, and despondent. These are just a few.

Acknowledge ONE nice thing that happened. Every day.

When you are deep in grief, you often focus on what you’ve lost and its resulting pain. Your world might become bleak and filled with despair. By acknowledging one nice thing that happened each day, you can begin to create a habit of gratitude, hope, and optimism.

Even if you had this habit before your loss, you’ll likely experience it in a more meaningful way. Nice things could be as simple as someone holding the elevator door for you. Or as significant as a friend stopping by to say hello and let you know they care about you.

Do ONE thing to take care of yourself. Every day.

This may not be difficult for some. But for myself and many others I know, this can be challenging even when you are NOT grieving. But in early grief, your energy is usually depleted. Even basic chores like cooking or laundry can feel impossible. If there is one time in your life you need to take care of yourself, it is now.

For example, you can ask family or friends to help with things you normally take for granted. Things like cooking a meal, doing a load of laundry, etc. You can eat something healthy when you don’t have any appetite. Or take a nap when you feel exhausted. You can let yourself cry if you feel the urge. Taking care of yourself could even be something like treating yourself to a massage to help relieve any aching tension.

Smile ONCE. Every day.

For some, this may be the most difficult mini-goal of them all. It was for me. If I smiled, it felt like I was okay with my daughter’s death. I literally thought I had to be miserable for the rest of my life to show how much I missed her.

Yet, for the sake of my other children, I forced myself to smile again. At first, the smiles weren’t authentic. But eventually the fake smiles led to real smiles. Eventually, the permission to smile led to feeling happiness and even joy once again. Happiness and joy lead to hope and optimism.

That is my ultimate wish for you – happiness, joy, hope, and optimism. You will likely have to re-learn how to invite them into your life. Yet your ultimate motivation and guide will likely be the deep, enduring love you feel for the loved one you lost. And I know there is no end to the depth of that love.