Good Riddance, Christmas: A Grinchy Look Back

Yesterday - Christmas day - my friend Kari remarked on Facebook, "I’m beginning to understand and relate to the Grinch more and more every year."

Over on Instagram, a reader and I were chatting via DM, and she said, "It's a weird season. We push ourselves in the 'spirit' of it, but it's an odd spirit that seems to demand sacrifice." [emphasis mine]

We exchanged laughing emojiis, but dang. Ain't that the truth?

My friend Adam posted, "I wish I could tell 2005 me that Christmas is always going to be the time you feel your shortcomings the most acutely." He went on to lament never having enough time, never DOING enough, and feeling like he was letting everyone down.

Any of this striking a chord with you, too?

Obviously this isn't new; we all know the holidays are brutal, especially if you're not feeling festive. There's just no room for anything less than a Perfect Hallmark Moment. There's no allowance for sadness, for anger, for loneliness or pain or even apathy. But we're human. We all feel those things. And when we feel things we're told not to feel, something's gotta give.

It wasn't 'til I got flattened this week by a run-of-the-mill head cold that I realized just how much I had riding on "the most wonderful time of the year." I didn't think I wanted all that much: just some conflict-free family time, a little last-minute crafting, a fun Epbot post or two - you know, the usual.

But when all of that was taken away from me, I discovered something quite ugly in myself.

 

 To be fair, I'd made my own Grinchy bed. I'd been pushing myself into overtime for 6 weeks, always behind, always stressed, always reaching for that perfect Christmas that would all be worth it once I got there. So when I got sick on the 23rd, right at the finish line, just before everything was finished, I spiraled straight down.

When I say I discovered something ugly in myself, that's what I'm talking about: the irrational despair. I was literally inconsolable for over 36 hours. I sobbed into my chicken soup, I blubbered into my tea, I stared morosely at my phone for hours.

In short, I was being ridiculous. I'm not saying it's wrong to feel sad - quite the opposite - I'm saying I was unprepared for what to DO with the sad. I had no pre-approved outlet, no action plan.

So now what?

 

In my better moments, in between the sobbing and sneezing and neti-potting, I tried to fall back on my philosophy that there is something redeemable in every situation, no matter how awful. Even if that redeemable thing is simply telling another person in the same place that they're not alone.

This philosophy is why I share so much here on Epbot: I figure SOMETHING good needs to come out of my panic and struggles - because otherwise, my gosh, what a waste.

I wanted to make an update then, of course, about how miserable I was. I wanted to go online and tell the world everything was awful and my Christmas was ruined. The compulsion was almost irresistible; why, people needed to know! 

 I did resist, though, because I knew that kind of negativity would only hurt others, not help. I also knew that eventually I would feel differently. So I put down my phone.

That night I lay awake for 5-6 hours with my usual insomnia, miserable and snotty in the early hours of Christmas morning, and at some point there in the dark I thought: where's the good in this? 

And if there is no good in this, then what good can I possibly create?

I wrote that post to myself, but I knew I couldn't be the only one who needed the reminder. Thinking about the other people out there - many who were no doubt hurting more than I was - helped give me a little perspective. And speaking words of love and encouragement to them made me feel a little more love and encouragement myself.

Almost immediately, messages started coming in. Most were simple thank yous. Others were words of commiseration. A few sent cute pictures of their pets. Some told me for the first time how much my blog has meant to them over the years. But here's the best thing: No one pitied me. No one sent a sad face or "poor you!" Because instead of focusing on just me, instead of ranting about my rotten luck or all the things I was missing out on, I focused on us. I found the redeemable aspect. I found the good I could create: community. I looked up and around at everyone else out here with me... and we came together, and I think all felt a little better for it.

 

There's something profound in this, gang, and I don't want you to miss it:

With every word you write, with every update, tweet, or post, you have the power to either drive people away or draw them together. You can isolate yourself behind walls of anger and negativity, or you can reach out to the people around you with something still honest, but hopeful.

And guess which way actually makes you feel better.

It's not easy, of course, because it takes sifting through a bad situation to find the sliver of good - even if the only good is to say, "Hey, all you people going through this thing I'm facing right now? I see you. I'm here with you. And it sucks and I'm sad/mad/hurting, but we're going to get through this."

We need more of that hope, that community. Especially here online.

So please, and by all means, be honest about your feelings, your struggles, your hurts. Let others see your humanity. But end with that sliver of good. End by looking around at all the people watching - and there are more than you think! -  and reminding them we're in this together, and we're stronger together.

  

Now here we are, the day after Christmas, and I feel a lot better. I'm pretty sheepish about all my dramatics, of course, and sorry for John having to put up with my sad sack for three days, but at least this week has shown me how I've had some priorities wrong. At least I've learned something for next year.

 Next year, I need to focus on people, not parties. I need to do some volunteer work, so I can feel like I'm giving more of value. I want to schedule more down time to rest, and see friends and family more often, so I can load up on those hugs and laughter all month.

 And finally, I need to go watch The Grinch now, even if it is the day after Christmas.

Because it makes me laugh, and John and I could use more of that tonight.

Thank you to everyone who messaged me this week with all your crafts and pets and memes and things to make me smile, even when you didn't know I needed it. Your messages here and in the PO Box have helped me more than you know, and I will never ever take them for granted. 

I hope you have a relaxing, healthy, and peaceful rest of your week. And if that can't happen, then I hope you'll remember to look around you, and reach out.

I love you guys! Thank you for making me feel joyful AND triumphant.