Ho Ho No
an alternative approach to preparing for the C-word
People keep asking me if I’m ready for Christmas. I want to tell them that I’m never ready—that the season feels like a greasy, over-fed, 20lb turkey of expectation and guilt around my neck. But that’s not what they mean. It’s not an existential or emotional question. It’s a “have you ordered that turkey, decorated the tree, bought and wrapped a hundred gifts yet?” question.
Sometimes I think the question is just a reflex—something to say when the other pleasantries are worn out. I’ve asked it too when I don’t have anything else to say but I’m not sure if I can yet walk away from the conversation without appearing rude.
My honest answer? I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Neither my partner and I are keen on turkey. We haven’t and won’t be doing an excessively big shop to tide us over the one day that the shops are closed. We’ve also agreed that we really don’t need more stuff, so gifts are limited to renewal of a couple of memberships that we make good use of during the year. Other than that, we’re both happy to keep things low key. The last couple of years we’ve eaten home made curry, taken the pooch for a walk and caught up on household chores. It’s been fine. Calm. Like an extra Sunday.
Like many people, My Christmas stories and memories aren’t all sparkles and fairy lights. Finding anything positive to say about the season, from a memory and storytelling point of view, can be a struggle.
The stories we tell ourselves at Christmas, just like those we tell at any time of year, are a function of our own history, our cultural and family training, and our own imaginations. We have a choice about the stories we allow to define our ongoing reality. But this is a pretty tricksy concept to get your head around at the best of times. If this is a new concept for you, Christmas may not be the best time to start the unravelling.
So, let me just say this. If you’re struggling with Christmas in general, or with Christmas memories, be kind to yourself. Don’t expect to fix a lifetime of stories in one highly-emotive, high-expectation season.
Instead, try a couple of these very simple ideas that help me to function when all I really want to do is cuddle up with the dog and a couple of bottles (hot water and alcoholic).
Give yourself time and space to breathe. Whether it’s an hour-long yoga workout in the privacy of your own room, or five minutes of peace in the bathroom at your in-laws. Take. Time. To. Breathe.
Know that you’re not alone, however much you may feel as though you are. Other people may not share exactly your Christmas story, but most of us have some version of seasonal pain. Even if you’re not in a time or place to share those stories, just know that other people are covering up their own discomfort with a thick layer of smiles and Baileys Irish Cream.
When a painful memory pops up, write it down, then allow yourself to set it aside. Even if you tell yourself it’s just for now. Writing down painful memories can diminish the power they hold over you. This doesn’t mean anything has been fixed, only that they’re a little easier to let be just for this moment.
Whether you’re with family, friends, or on your own, enjoy what you can and try not to give too much weight to what you can’t. I guarantee, once the season has passed, once the days become just a little bit longer and brighter, those memories and thoughts that are heavier at Christmas will be a little easier to handle. Then, maybe come spring or summer, when daylight is abundant and this season is distant, take a look at the Christmas memories you noted down during the season and see what and where they take you.
Make time for the small rituals that keep you connected to you. Its all too easy to put your true self into deep freeze when you’re forced into close proximity with other people at this time of year. Especially if you’re any kind of introvert. Whatever it is that’s important to you, be it walks with the dog, reading trashy romance novels, writing, or catching up with some form of a Real Housewife, find a nugget of time for you.
Indulge in an early night or two. Take a book, a mug of hot chocolate, your dog or partner with you and just chill out.
Give yourself something to look forward to. Sign up for a class, book a trip to see someone you really, really want to see, once this season has passed.
Set yourself a challenge. Something that tests a deeply-held story you tell yourself about yourself—and then tell someone about it. Tell me about it too, if it helps keep you on track.
One thing I’ll definitely be doing is stringing up as many fairy lights as I can lay my hands on. That’s not a Christmas thing though. It’s an anything-that-lifts-the-gloom-of-December-is-good-with-me thing.
Whatever you’re up to, today, tomorrow and in the coming weeks, be kind to yourself and know that you are not defined by any one moment. Your Christmas stories are not all that you are. The stories you tell about yourself should to be told with as much care as the stories you tell about those you love. That includes the stories you tell about yourself to yourself.
See you on the other side.
p.s. If you have any time to spare over the holidays (is that a ridiculous concept?) and want something positive to do, subscribe for free to Root Stories and get a copy of “Memory Journalling for Gentle Storytellers - 12 tips to unearth your memories and build a bank of personal stories”. If you’ve already subscribed but haven’t received a copy (I updated the new subscriber email to add the link only a couple of weeks ago) drop me an email and I’ll send it to you direct.
I harbor every same feeling of dread as you Miranda, Christmas is the only time of year where I literally want to hide away until it’s all over. Too often it is a time when every ghost of Christmas’s past drops by to reinstall the memories we manage to contain for every other day of the year, just the thought makes me want to cry.
But this year, for the first time in so many I cannot remember, there will be just the three of us, my daughter cannot be here and because she will be much missed by us all and the day holds no excitement for anyone, we are having a chilled, slow day. Like you say, an extra Sunday.
I hope yours is just as you hope x
You captured my feelings about Christmas so well. For years now, my husband and I have enjoyed low-key holidays. Just us with our cats. If the weather is favorable, maybe we can ride our bikes at a nearby wildlife refuge. Our family members are far-flung, at least hundreds of miles away, so it's quiet for us. Frankly, I wouldn't have it any other way.