It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year...Or is it?
Whether you are ho-ho-yes or ho-ho-no, I get you.
Christmas inevitably brings memories. Great ones, good ones, and sometimes really crappy or haunting ones.
It’s such a big holiday, even for many non-Christians, and it’s almost impossible to escape. Christmas fills the stores and the airwaves and it’s all over the internet. For God’s sake, it’s even on some people’s lawns, in the form of giant inflatable snowmen and spindly reindeer.
The faithful may put up a manger scene outdoors, and inevitably the neighborhood cat will find it and sit on the baby Jesus, declaring sovereignty over the Son of God.
Cats only know Christmas as more places to sit and more things to knock over.
There was a period when I felt the same way about Christmas. No, I didn’t seek out manger scenes to smother the baby Jesus in his crib with my butt, yet I did feel like knocking things over. Hard.
After my husband died, I didn’t really celebrate Christmas for seven years. I didn’t have the heart or the energy. Grief, exhaustion, and unwanted life changes will eat your sparkles. I missed John to the depth of my very soul.
I didn’t want anything for Christmas except for him to come back.
The second Christmas after John danced away from the living, I hunkered down at a friend’s empty beach house. Alone. The water was off because plumbing work was being done, so I hauled water in with me. I ate boiled peanuts because that’s what I could find in the small community mostly shut down for the holidays. On Christmas day I binged on “The Newsroom” on HBO.
I didn't want to be in a Christmas-crowded place and didn't want Santa in my face. I only wanted to get through the holiday intact, without feeling lonely, fearful, or floating in memories of laughing, loving, sweet holidays past.
I remember the peaceful feeling on Christmas morning as I awoke to the smell of sea air. I watched beach birds as they searched from on high for a breakfast of fish swimming close to the water's surface, or the happy score of a French fry dropped on the ground by a drunk tourist the day before.
It didn't suck. At all.
It was simple. It allowed me to live in the moment, bask in the subtle and ever-changing light by the shore, and feel no pressure whatsoever to be either merry or bright.
I didn’t want to ho-ho-ho. I wanted to lick my wounds and wait for better days.
Better days always come.
It's the waiting, as Tom Petty said, that's the hardest part.
It wasn’t until two years ago when my friend TC literally sent me a Christmas tree and a box of wrapped gifts that I had a holiday that was somewhat normal. And the sweetness of that “normal” did not escape me. It was a bold move on his part, not knowing if I was ready or willing, but it was one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me. I cried real tears. And I enjoyed myself.
I suppose what I'm saying is that Christmas can come with pressure, both wanted and unwanted. Don't let it overwhelm you. Christmas is not your boss.
If you are with family and friends, enjoy the togetherness, the days off work, the feasting, the laughter, and lights. Every holiday is a chance to enhance tradition and make memories.
But if you don't want, or for some reason don't have, a traditional Christmas this year (or any year), that's alright. I get you.
Take the peace that comes with the holiday season and allow it into your heart, wherever you are, whatever your circumstance.
Slow down, look around instead of down, and let your blessings find you.
It is my wish that all your blessings find you.
It is my hope that you recognize them when they do.
All blessings to you in the New Year, dear one- with as many sparkles as you choose! 💖
Whew. The Newsroom is a helluva choice to binge whilst enjoying boiled peanuts. "Christmas is not the boss of you." My dear hubby doesn't feel any warmth for this time of year and I try to make sure he has space to get away from *gestures vaguely to all the shiny bits that I love* all of it. It wasn't until I was in my 30s that I realized the whole "drawing inward" and peaceful silence that gets shouted over by the noise is exactly what I love about this time of year. Learning that the lights got put up because the days were so short and the celebration of the solstice and return of the light appeals to me still, even through cookie sugar induced haze.
And now I want to go back and re-watch that opening monologue from the Newsroom. Happy New Year, Therra. I am truly sorry that you lost your love, and so appreciate that you create and share with us out here on the interwebs. ~ N