This use to be my favorite time of year. A month of Starbucks peppermint mochas held by cute gloved hands mingled with shopping, sparkly lights, holiday parties and the quest for the perfect gift for loved ones. I loved the anticipation of what you secretly wish Santa would leave you under the tree (like a pink Burberry scarf - hint, hint) as well as picking out the perfect outfit to welcome in a new year full of hope and potential.
Christmas should be a happy family time full of love and being spoiled. Growing up in my family we celebrated the entire month with paper chain countdowns, tree decorating, egg nog and baking a ridiculous amount of cookies. We had several different celebrations between my divorced parents and out-of-state family members. The anticipation of the big day had us giddy. The month seemed to take eons to get through and we were spoiled rotten on the big day. My Mom use to ask us to name seven things we received because the area surrounding the tree looked like Toys R Us vomited down the chimney.
For 30+ years December was my favorite month - until my brother-in-law died from an asthma attack a day and a half after Christmas almost four years ago.
Now, instead of bursting to the seams with holiday cheer, it is a very somber time in our home. He was my husband's only sibling. He was far too young to be taken from our lives. He left behind his girlfriend and two young sons. It was a horrible, tragic accident and we are all still picking up the pieces. I don't know how to even recover from this type of travesty. I don't think we ever really will.
Now as the days peel off the calendar marching us closer to December 27th, the level of anxiety increases exponentially in our home. Terse words are coupled with stress of surviving the insanity of the holiday season served up in a giant stocking. I wrestle with daily tears or panic attacks. It's as if the giant elephant in the room has taken up residency on my chest. It gets heavier and heavier until the end of December until I think I can't breathe or move and I am powerless to do anything about it.
I try to keep the month light and happy for my girls. They deserve to have the December that I grew up with, full of happiness, hope and celebration. So I overdo it. I try to create that feeling that I had for my girls. I spend WAY too much money on presents that they don't really need. I over-bake, over-decorate, over-plan. Because that's how I cope with this month now. My husband - who was never a holiday kind of guy anyway - is tending to his own grieving. So instead of a month full of stolen kisses under mistletoe, it's a month of walking on eggshells trying not to trigger a fight. Christmas day his parents arrive for the week so they can all be together to survive the anniversary. Add stress of the holidays, plus grieving, multiplied by a house full of in-laws = Not enough Zoloft-tinis in the continental US for me to function.
And I feel guilty because I don't want to be a part of the sadness. I want to smother my girls in love and bake cookies and sing Christmas carols. I want to run away to a beach and hide my head in the sand until December is over and life can go back to "normal." Which is selfish. And not what my husband needs or deserves - I know that. He needs us to hold it together so he can fall apart - because that's what you do as a family. But it's so hard to keep my head above the undercurrents of depression when I fight it on a daily basis as it is. So I wage this internal battle against this feeling of "Why did this have to happen during the holidays" against "If he snaps my head off one more time" and "I can't handle sending 200 Christmas cards this year." As a professional stresser - this makes me shake starting on Thanksgiving.
So, forgive me if during this month I hide or my usual sarcasm is cynical. I am trying very hard to hold it together for my girls. Because this time of year should be magical, not melancholy and I'm not very good at pretending.
Oh, and I'm trying to hide the credit card statements from my husband until January - which is like a full-time job. Santa is VERY generous while shopping on-line drinking Zoloft-tinis.
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| Bartender, make mine a triple please. |
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