Christmas Affect Disorder

I can’t take the emotional baggage of Christmas. All the years of rituals and feelings of every Christmas I have ever had weigh me down. The expectations of joy and the inevitable let-downs hang around like ghosts, that come back year after year. I have whined about Christmas before in this blog, detailing my bad attitude about the holiday, my hatred of Christmas music and the illusion of happiness that mocks me. Last year, I got through it all relatively unscathed, but this year was different because my daughter Melissa wasn’t around.

Most of December was bearable. I had very little shopping to do, which meant no agonizing about what to get people, when I didn’t have a clue want they wanted. I didn’t put up a tree because no one else was around to see it; if it wasn’t put up, then it wouldn’t have to be taken down. The Christmas lights stayed in the box because it was too much effort to untangle them, get out a ladder, and string them up. I put up a wreath and decorated the mantel and that was it. I didn’t bake any cookies, just corn bread and tea bread for parties. I went to two great parties and felt good for a while.

I accepted the fact that I didn’t have family to visit, unlike most of the rest of the world. My parents and sister are all deceased and my daughter is in Washington, D.C. Families are over-rated anyway. Most of the time they are boring as hell and disrupt one’s routine. Sometimes a relative cracks and shoots everyone. Guns and Christmas are a bad combination. I briefly thought of visiting my sister-in-law in South Carolina, but the air fare was ridiculous and I hate traveling during the holidays.

I detest crowded airports and the weather is usually terrible between where you fly from and where you are going. I thought of taking a ski trip, but the lifts are crowded this time of the year. I would spent more time in line than skiing.

I should have avoided Facebook. All those people bragging about how wonderful their lives are, what a good time they are having, and all the family, friends and parties is depressing. All that damn cheeriness. My life doesn’t live up to this standard. Of course the people who are not having a great time aren’t posting about it. I could bitch about the holidays, but then I would be considered to be negative, which most people consider to be a major character flaw. If I can’t be positive all the time, then there must be something wrong with me. It’s not acceptable to hate Christmas.

I planned the hell out of December. I went to four parties, went to a movie on Christmas with a friend, volunteered at Desert Botanical Garden three times, trained for a marathon, saw a therapist, did a 30k race, and went to the Nutcracker Ballet. It wasn’t enough to stave off the holiday blues.

Maybe it’s the short days and I have Seasonal Affect Disorder. December should be called my Christmas Affect Disorder. Maybe it’s because I sleep an extra hour a day because it’s dark at seven o’clock and who the hell wants to get up anyway? It could be all the fat laden sugary treats that I can’t avoid because it’s there, it’s good and I am hungry. Every party has wine and I have to have at least one glass. Food that’s bad for me and booze is not good for my state of mind. At least not later on, when I get on the scale and find out I am wearing the extra calories.

I am glad that the holidays are over and I can get back to my regular depression. The Halls can get undecked, the Bells can stop jingling and the Chestnuts can stop roasting.