T.G.I.O. (Thank God It's Over)

 

"To many people, holidays are not voyages of discovery, 

but a ritual of reassurance." 

Phillip Andrew Adams

There’s truly no better way to out yourself as a Grinch, than to be honest about what you did over the holidays.

“SLEEP,” is what I blurted out to my curious co-workers, when asked how I’d spent the Christmas time off.  “And lots of Netflix-ing. And lounging. Hung out with the kids, reorganized my closet, painted a wall…"

 They stared at me with differing versions of awkwardness and awe.

“Andd..?” they implored.

“Oh, and I mailed out some custom holiday cards, which featured the cutest picture of my dog!” I added that last part (which was true), to not come off as a total misanthrope. 

When they discovered none of my answers included running myself ragged to purchase gifts, putting up decorations, sitting through forced gatherings with dysfunctional relatives, or ugly Christmas sweater contests, they were like WAIT WHAT YOU DON’T CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS?

And the answer is nah. Not really. And how fucking presumptuous it is to assume everyone does. Since when did Thanksgiving and Christmas become mandatory rituals for all inhabitants on the planet? Does it ever occur to anyone that MAYBE I'M A GODDAMN ATHEIST? Or Taoist. or Wiccan. Or a freaking DRUID. (I’m not, but I’m all the way down with Festivus)

I’ll say this though, I don’t buy into the rampant, soulless, frenzied consumerism that dictates what I should be doing like clockwork once a year. Yes, I love connecting with friends and family, eating, drinking, and being merry; picking out little thoughtful cards and gifts, being grateful and aware and alive, but I do that through the entire year.  Why do some people get so damn fanatical about it in December? Just to revert to being the same self-involved, neglectful, slacking fools come January?

Who's to say.

And what a lot of people don't realize - while singing and insisting that It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year - that it just might not be; not for everyone. 

Some folks have problems that don’t dissolve just because it’s The Holidays. Illness, addictions, poverty, pain, estrangement, loneliness.

And for others, the holidays represent a prolonged and cruel insult; ramming reminders into the hearts of those who have lost loved ones over the years. To mandate cheerfulness on everyone BECAUSE IT'S CHRISTMAS is insensitive. It's this lack of compassion that makes the holidays even harder to tolerate.

Over a decade ago, my mother died five days before Christmas. Her funeral was right before New Year. Since then, it’s been a wrap. Neither I, nor the holidays, have ever been the same.   

It was also my induction into The Club.

The Club consists of those who have experienced some heartbreaking loss, and share a coded language with others who've experienced the same.  It is a very sad, very quiet membership.  We don't advertise, though it is our universal duty to acknowledge each other in kind.

An ex who use to chide me about my holiday grumpiness, recently lost his only son in early November. When he gave me the news, he also apologized.

“I never understood it before, until now. What you must have felt like. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” I said. “ You couldn’t have known. I would’ve preferred you never know.”

And I was sorry. It’s always disheartening to embrace a new member to The Club.

“Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday,” he said. “ I hate it now. I'll never celebrate it again.”

“I know,” I said, grabbing his hand. “I know.”

Say no more.

***********

Thank God It’s Over.

And here we are, safely into the second week of January, settling back into the flow of old (and new) routines that will launch us into another year. 

Which means I'm relieved of the holiday madness, (somewhat) out of hibernation, and back to the good stuff. The opportunity to make every day special, on my own terms.  

This is what brings me joy. The magic of an ordinary day: Who will I see and talk to, what will inspire me, who shall I call and let know I am thinking of them, what will move me, who or what will make me laugh, think, explore, grow... 

Twenty four hours of infinite possibilities. 

Just how I like it. Christmas, every single day of the week.

January, 2015.