Tonight is Christmas Eve and I find myself facing the first Christmas in recent memory, maybe ever, that I wish was over before it began. I’m not bah humbug, nor am I falling apart sad. I am just not feeling it. Not interested. Indifferent.
Part of it has to do with the loss of both of my parents this year. Those of you who read my piece on Stages of Grief know that they died at ages 67 and 65 within 20 days of one another in April. He from a stroke and she from cancer. Loss and Christmas can be difficult to reconcile.
Part of it has to do with watching one of my children struggle with the first sober Christmas and all that entails for the addict that is turning their life around. I remember that feeling from my first sober Christmas a number of years ago and I wish this child well. Sobriety, depression and Christmas can be difficult to reconcile.
Part of it has to do with having spent down the last of our savings and having had to borrow the money for our mortgage and Christmas presents this year while navigating the difficult bridge of having no predictable income or health insurance until January. Financial uncertainty and Christmas can be difficult to reconcile.
And yet, in the midst of all of it, I have many things to be grateful for and there are millions of people on earth who have things far, far worse than we do. I am sitting in a warm home with a loving husband and three children who I love and who love me. I expect the first advance on my book to arrive in the mail any day now and I begin a new teaching job (with benefits) at the end of January, so there are good things on the horizon.
Fortunately, hope and Christmas are not only easy to reconcile–they go hand in hand.
So, this is a shout out to all of the people for whom Christmas festivities are feeling like more of an assault than a gift. Those who are doing their best to go through the motions because of grief, or empty bank accounts or trying to stay away from a drink or a drug. Let’s have a Merry Christmas anyway and pray for an even happier New Year.