The holiday trap—yep, time to fall into it again and again and again. Why so many “agains”? Because lessons are learned oh, so slowly, are they not?
We are not Santa Claus and amazon is not a sleigh!
Gotta use a little irony mixed in with a soupçon of sadness, for human beings are not perfect. I watch the Publix ads where the little girl gives an old man a Christmas cookie and he makes her a snowman overnight to surprise her on Christmas morning. The only thing I get from Publix is a higher grocery bill.
Amazon is sleighing America right now. Can’t resist that pun because it is true. Bloated with convenience, its sleighs (plural), are dropping shit on porches and running away. Giggle. It’s not only convenient, it is soul-destroying on some level. I use it myself all the time.
The main trap for me is the guilt this holiday produces. Why can’t I give more creative gifts? Why do I always feel so inadequate on Christmas morning?
I say every year that my husband was born in December, he entered hospice then and he died the week before Christmas and was buried the day before Christmas Eve. Oh, and our anniversary was Dec. 28. By then, depression is in full flower for me. By January 1, I feel the chill of sorrow in my marrow.
But I am a survivor and you probably are as well. The holidays skillfully push all of our buttons, not giving us time to draw a breath that is conscious. It is a miracle that more people do not take their lives during the holidays.
I vow to give myself some emotional slack every year and every year I fail to do so. Instead I eat my feelings, as the saying goes. At first I am sensible at how much sugar I eat and as I head toward the new year, I throw caution to the winds and cram my mouth with unholy amounts of things that are not good for me.
Where is God in all of this? Right where He has always been, hanging out in my subconscious, waiting for me to remember myself. That is the best remedy for the Christmas blues. Truth delivers, even while amazon is a hard second away. Do the right thing, folks. When Santa comes down the chimney covered with soot you have to clean up, drink some egg nog and dream of sugar plum fairies with fat bellies and elves in AA. Nothing is perfect and the holiday trap proves that again and again.
Vicki Woodyard