Tuesday, January 5, 2016

The After Christmas Drain

Recently, I received a thoughtful email from one of my sisters-in-law, apologizing for not being in touch. The reason I hadn't heard from her, she wrote, is because "the holidays are not my best time of year." She didn't go into detail why, only that too many loved ones were gone and there were too many expectations from others. She was obviously down, and I felt bad for her, but, at the same time, almost instantly, her words lifted my own depressed mood. Not that I was reveling in her sadness, I was just relieved to hear about it, because it made me feel more human, less like a scrooge.


Christmas sucks the life out of me. This year, afterward, I collapsed on the couch and stayed there for an entire day, drained of all my energy. Why? Not because of the rushing around to buy gifts, or the preparing of festive dishes to take to various gatherings, or even from hosting a dinner party for my husband's family. Nah, I breezed through all that. What took me down was the exhaustion from a month of faking the spirit, holding up the heavy, happy  façade, keeping a smile plastered over my sadness, so as not to ruin, for anyone else, what should be a magical time.


The truth is, I don't really like Christmas. Sure, I get a warm feeling when I think of the true meaning of the day, a soul-deep stirring. And who doesn't enjoy watching kids rip into their gifts? But the rest I could do without. There, I finally said it, and I don't feel as evil as I thought I would, thanks to my sister-in-law's email. Although for different reasons, she and I just aren't Christmas people, and I'm guessing we're not the only ones.


My annual depression starts around the end of November and runs well into January. The reasons are pretty straightforward. The Christmases of my formative years were not joyful ones, and in spite of all my attempts at happy holidays since, I have not been able to cover up those first horrible memories. When my kids were young it wasn't so bad. Their glee filled me up and their happiness was mine. But in the last several years, even as I'm surrounded by smiles and laughter, I can still see, vividly, the forlorn face of a little girl on Christmas morning, a little girl who thinks even Santa hates her. She's huddled in a corner clutching a package of socks, watching her brothers play with their bicycles and race cars, admiring from afar the same birthstone ring that she'd seen under the tree for two years in a row, but never worn on her finger. And most painful of all, years ago, my dad was killed in a car wreck just days before Christmas. The ruthless ghost of that Christmas past haunts me every year.


I hate this part of me, mostly because of my husband. He didn't sign up for his wife turning into a grumpy elf on his favorite holiday. And I'm ashamed that I feel the way I do. My reason for writing this is to reach out to others who feel the same way. Just getting an email from someone else who also gets the holiday blues lifted my spirit. Maybe someone like me will happen across this blog and take some comfort in knowing that he, or she, is not alone.

17 comments:

  1. Thank you. I couldn't have said it better, and this comes from somebody who had wonderful Christmas's as a child.

    ReplyDelete
  2. It is a time when one is supposed to be happy. But as you wrote it so wonderfully, this is not how everybody feels. I remember when I was a child there was a lot of tension during that time of year. I won't go into detail but when december is approaching i always feel more sad than happy. Your words could have been written by me. And yes it is nice to hear that there are other people too for whom it is not their best time of the year. It was so nice reading, thank you.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Thank you! I too have been feeling this sadness for the last several years.

    ReplyDelete
  4. As a Christian, I try so hard to be all joyful and light. I even wrote a Christmas Carol years ago. The first line is: "Happy birthday, Jesus, it's my favorite time of year..."

    On a spiritual level, that is true. But on a PTSD level.... this is the time of year when my mother tried to gas our family to death.

    This year, I started dreading it as soon as the days began getting noticeably shorter. Maybe I need one of those SAD lamps.

    ((HUG)) to all who feel this way.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Thank u for writing ur books, I couldn't put them down. Although I never experienced the severe abuse and trauma that u did, I grew up with a drug addicted mother who emotionally and verbally abused me, and continues to do so to this day. U are a very brave woman and I pray for ur continued happiness and success in life, and hope that u have been able to reclaim a healthy relationship with ur kiddos. All children need their mamas, even when they reach adulthood, as u know! I'm rooting for u, sister!! Cheers <3

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hi Jenn. So sorry about your mother. People who have nurturing parents don't always realize how lucky they are. You and I missed out on so much, I'm sure. I wish you the best moving forward. Thank you for your interest in my story, and for being so sweet to write to me.

      Delete
  6. I have a horrible time from my birthday in September to January when satanic rituals are done and for me were the worst time of year and all though I had wonderful holidays during the day around the holidays my stomach turns every year and flashbacks happen every year of not so nice stuff that happened around it I wish I could just go into hibernation starting now yah it was a little easier when my child was a child now she's grown and I usually wish death would come quick my bday is in a week with a full moon to boot

    ReplyDelete
  7. I just finished reading both of your books in 2 days! Parallels were obvious but when you moved to Evansville it was really strange
    I’m a southern Indiana Native, graduate of journalism from USI, and no many stories of the ducks at the hospital grounds;). Also did a stint in a furniture store lol.
    I did not go through severe abuse, but the dynamic of the passive dad tolerating sometimes bizarre maternal behavior is all too familiar. As for Christmas? Well, we went from sad to bizarre to painfu. Hard to say what was the best. Maybe the year my brother brought home a hooker, or maybe the year my mom was so angry my aunts got drunk under the table... or the year they dragged everyone home just to cancel it? Or the year I was late and some giant fight broke out that became my fault because I handle these things? Over the years, I learned not to accept invitations from friends trying to make it “good.” I just feel guilty when it never does. These days I find an elderly lonely neighbor or go Demi get in an Irish bar with other lost souls.
    Just wanted you to know your books definitely reached me.

    Paula

    ReplyDelete
  8. I stumbled upon your books and as a nurse, I seem to be drawn with empathy to stories such as this. I would describe my childhood years as being just on the the cusp; the outer layers of anything close to what you describe that you went through. Words cut deep though, and I experienced enough to feel your story on a slightly deeper level. May God's favor shine upon you now and just know that God does bring beauty from our ashes and uses it for good. You are amazing; you are loved. God bless you.

    ReplyDelete