As luck would have it,
it turns out relationships and I do not have a good relationship. I do not have
a “normal” relationship with: food, alcohol, pain pills (even when I need them
for legitimate purposes), benzos (even though I could really use them for a sometimes-acute
case of anxiety), and, as we will explore in this writing, oddly enough,
Christmas.
I would love to have a
normal relationship with Christmas. As it is, I have one that is anything but!
I watch wistfully, longingly, jealously, ignorantly (of a normal relationship with
Christmas) as others have what appears to be normal relationships with the
season, wondering what it would be like or feel like.
I cannot remember, as an
adult, having a normal relationship with Christmas. Instead, it has been a
season of mixed, heightened emotions. Early in the season I experience
excitement, anticipation – even joy. I enjoy Christmas and the celebrating, and
all the festivities that go with it. But as the day itself draws ever nearer,
an odd phenomenon begins to occur. The emotions and feelings I experience take
a turn for the worse, and change to a mixture of sadness, panic, depression,
loss, dread, and grief. Come Christmas Eve, it is at times an almost unbearable
mixture of all the above. At the core is an overwhelming sense of dread and
loss, making it feel difficult to breath at times. The sense of loss and grief
is inescapable, and both overwhelms and overtakes me. In Christmases past, I
would be so depressed by Christmas Eve that I would be sobbing uncontrollably much
of the day. I can remember my ex-wife asking, “It’s Christmas. Why are you
crying?” A fair question, indeed; however, one to which, at the time, an answer
eluded me. Some years depression rendered me almost unable to get out of bed on
Christmas day to open presents.
More on that later, but first,
allow me to give you a front row seat to the shit show that is me
"celebrating" Christmas: how I celebrate, the traditions, the strict adherence to them, the drive to keep them, the forces driving me – all that is
the madness, the insanity taking place behind the scenes while I am celebrating
Christmas. I will look at ways I have celebrated in the past, things I have
done continuously throughout my adult life, and the things I have started doing
most recently. I will share with you not just those things, but the thinking
and the reasoning (or “un”reasoning, as the case may be) behind those things.
Please take a few
minutes to take a bathroom break, if necessary, put on something comfortable,
pop some popcorn, and pour a beverage of your choice. I recommend a strong
adult beverage of your preference, if you are so inclined. Trust me, you are
probably going to need it. And lastly, pull up your favorite chair, get
comfortable, settle in, and join me on a trip down memory lane and into (at times)
a little insanity. I am glad you are here – enjoy your visit.
The
Celebration
This one will seem
straightforward, until I dive into the madness behind the celebrating itself,
which will be in the following section. I have never been much of a Halloween
person, truth be told. I have viewed it as an obstacle, or hindrance to the
beginning of the Christmas season. In my reasoning, were it not for Halloween,
Christmas could get off to an earlier start. Needless to say, but… I begin the
Christmas season early. As soon as Halloween ends, I begin the decorating and
planning for Christmas. By now, I have already made a list, or more accurately,
updated an annual standing list of Christmas movies I will want to watch. In
addition, I will begin, or begin adding to a list of presents I will be
purchasing for the recipients on said list.
Decorating early is a
must – both inside and out. The more decorations there are, the better. In the
movie “A Christmas Story,” Ralphie refers to the BB
Gun he wants for Christmas as the “holy grail” of Christmas presents. For me,
the “holy grail” of Christmas is not a present, but rather, the Christmas tree,
under which the presents will be displayed in all their rightful glory. This is
probably my favorite activity of the season – the Christmas tree. I am not
unlike Clark Griswold in “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation” when it comes
to the tree. I love everything about it – the hunt (finding the perfect tree)
to bringing it in the house (the smell of a pine) and putting it in the stand,
to stringing lights on it (1000+, baby) to decorating it!
Another activity I
really enjoy is going to light displays. Several that I have seen in recent
years are: Coney Island’s light display, the display at Sharon Woods, and the
lights at the Cincinnati Zoo. I would be remiss not to mention the light show
Candlemaker Light Show, done at a private home.
And then there are the Christmas
scents, or in my case, pine. I love the scent of pine during the season, and
cannot have enough pine scented tart warmers. And while Yankee Candle is my
favorite, I have found a few others that are acceptable. All pine scented
though – no other scent will do. I even purchase pine scented soap, which I use
for showers throughout the season.
What would the holiday
be without Christmas music? I have a Christmas playlist that I listen to every
season, and it is eclectic, to say the list. There are two, actually. One with
everything from John Denver to metal, and then there is the Statler Brothers Christmas
playlist (a must while wrapping presents.) I start listening to Christmas music
as soon as Halloween ends, and little else until after the season’s end. I feel
lost once Christmas is over and I go back to listening to regular music.
The Christmas movies
begin as early as the music, and it’s a good thing, as my list is a long one.
While there is no particular order, I do prioritize them, and will save my
favorites until closer to Christmas day. I have a running list of movies, which
I will update each year, as new movies come out, and as my tastes may change.
However, at the core, there are many movies that always stand the test of time,
which I watch year after year.
While a diagnosis of
diabetes has significantly altered the long-standing tradition of Christmas
treats, I have always celebrated the season by indulging in a plethora of
amazing holiday sweets and treats. If you recall, I stated at the beginning of
this writing that I do not have a “normal” relationship with food. Never has it
been more evident than at Christmastime. Between baking cookies and buying
holiday treats, my tastebuds have always played a major role in my celebrating
the season.
And last, and certainly
not least, are the presents. Not in the getting, but in the giving. I have
always enjoyed giving presents – it has always been a huge factor in the joy I
receive during the season. One of the more memorable presents I gave was when I
was 18 and still living at home. I gave my parents an entire new living room set
for Christmas that year. I begin early, planning what I will purchase for those
on my list and go to great lengths to find what I think will bring them joy.
And doing so brings me joy in return.
The
Madness Within the Celebrating
Here is where that
strong beverage of your choice will come in handy. Here is where we depart from
the norm and enter the madness that I engage in when celebrating the season. If
you are brave enough – or as crazy as I am (a big shout out to you, if the
latter is the case), read on, as I get transparent in this section and bare my
soul. As Henry Francis Cary says in his own words from Dante Alighieri's
Inferno “all hope abandon ye who enter here.” To make it easier to read, and
who am I kidding – easier for me to write, I will break each former celebration
into sections and delve into the madness therein.
Ladies, gentlemen, or
however you identify (all are welcome!) … start your engines (or reading
glasses, or bookmarks, or…)
Decorating
First and most
importantly, there is no such thing as too many decorations. If you happen to
be visiting while I am decorating and sit in one place very long, I just may
attempt to decorate you. I see every doorway, window, walkway, ledge, etc., as
an opportunity to decorate. Anything left undecorated is a missed opportunity,
and as such is unacceptable. Decorating is not simply decorating – it is a
complete and total conversion of the house into a Christmas wonderland. It must
“scream” Christmas; anything less “screams” failure and just will not do.
Lights, garlands, bows, pinecones, berries, wreaths and more, all must be
present and prominently displayed. If, after decorating, there is a bare spot
in the house, that spot must be decorated. If there is nothing left to decorate
it with, a trip to the store to purchase the necessary item(s) is a must.
Light Displays
Be it commercial, large
scale or residential homes, driving through or by light displays is a must. And
in driving through these displays, there are several other “must-dos” as well.
hot cocoa √, Christmas PJs √,
Christmas music √, phone on standby to
record video and pictures √. And the timing is
critical, as well. We cannot go too close to Christmas, and definitely not
afterwards. (more on that soon)
Christmas Scents
There is basically one
rule when it comes to scents: pine, pine, and more pine. Oh – and tart warmers
over candles, thank you very much. It’s not that I don’t like peppermint,
gingerbread, sugar cookies scents, and many of the various other holiday
scents, it’s just that pine is the only one that will do. And it must be just
the right pine scent, at that. Not just any tart warmer labeled pine will do.
They must pass the “smell test,” and very few do. I will have them melting in
the background every evening, except for the week following when the tree goes
up. I enjoy the natural scent of the tree until it no longer gives off its pine
scent, at which time I switch to the tart warmers.
Christmas Music
Beginning early in
November, I break out the Christmas music. I do not have an amazon music
account, save November – December, which I have solely to listen to the sounds
of the season. For the duration of the season, I listen to nothing but Christmas
music – all else is fodder until after the season. I have an extensive and
eclectic Christmas playlist, everything from country (I loathe country music
otherwise) to metal, as well as a separate playlist reserved exclusively for a
decades-long music tradition – The Statler Brothers Christmas music. While I
rarely listen to them any other time of the year, The Statler Brothers are a
“must listen” during the holiday, and never more so than while wrapping
presents.
Once the season is over,
and I first listen to “non-Christmas” music, I feel lost, and not quite sure
what to listen to, as I have grown so accustomed to listening to the sounds of
the season. And just as I will not listen to non-holiday music in the time
leading up to Christmas, I will not listen to Christmas music once the holiday
has passed. Doing so is painful, but more on that to follow soon.
Christmas Movies
Here is where that
madness I referred to really intensifies. As I stated earlier, I have a
standing list of Christmas movies that I watch every year.
For reasons I have not fully
been able to grasp, watching those movies is a must. I watched 40 Christmas
movies this season, four cartoons, one Christmas special (a Statler Brothers
DVD), and five holiday sitcoms. Not watching even one of said
movies/cartoons/shows was not an option. Not doing so would have felt like
something terrible had happened – as if I had missed out on something important
and vital – as if a large, vital piece of my life would have gone missing. There
were times when I would have preferred to stay home and forego going out and
partaking in fun, seasonal activities to be able to watch yet another Christmas
movie. How insane is that? Turn down going out and partaking in a Christmas
activity in order to watch yet another movie, often by myself.
And there are “rules”
(two) to watching these movies. I cannot merely watch them casually and simply
enjoy them – oh no, not me. If at any point during the movie I am distracted
and miss even the tiniest little bit of the movie (even a movie I have seen a
dozen or more times), I must rewind it to the last place I was paying attention
and restart it from that point. I know this seems crazy (probably because it
is), but I have tried to keep watching without rewinding in those cases where I
“missed” something, and a sense of being disturbed and of dread and “missing
out” took over and I was driven, as if by an outside force, to rewind to the
last place I was paying attention, and start from there. Those attempts to not
rewind bothered me so much; I could not enjoy the movie – to the point that I
had to rewind. That second rule: I must watch a movie until the very end, and
by end, I mean the very end of the credits. And if that’s not weird enough,
here’s where it gets even more so. It’s ok to fast forward during the rolling
credits until it’s near the end and then watch until the actual end, but I must
watch until the credits stop rolling. Failure to do so will result in a feeling
of incompleteness and overall lacking.
Christmas Treats/Sweets
As mentioned earlier, I
have never had a “normal” relationship with food. I was obese by three years
old, and all through grade school, I was either the fattest or one of the top
three fattest kids in the entire school. If you so desire, you can read more
about that hell in my memoirs titled “My Journey From Faith to Atheism” here in
Part One: https://jamesexlineatheist.blogspot.com/2018/07/my-journey-from-faith-to-atheism-part.html
.
Never did that abnormal
relationship with food rear its ugly head more so than at Christmastime. My upbringing had caused my emotions to
be strongly connected with food, and also led to my having extremely strong
emotions regarding Christmas. That combination was certainly not a healthy one,
and one that became a driving force behind my celebrating the season. Christmas
themed candy and desserts of all sorts: candy cane or peppermint this,
peppermint that – especially peppermint bark, and I was all in. I think I single-handedly kept the peppermint bark industry in business for the 2022
season. I had been conditioned to eat my feelings, and the combination of my
emotions at Christmas and the plethora of incredible seasonal sweets was more
than I could resist. While shopping, whenever I would see any holiday treats –
especially sweets, a wellspring of emotions (the season combined with the
foods) would spring up within me, and would drive me to buy those treats, and
ultimately to eat more of them than one person ever should.
The Christmas Tree
No other activity or
decoration of the season evokes more emotions or prompts more insanity and
rules than that of the Christmas tree. First off, I love the entire process of
the tree – from the hunt to picking one out to the final ornament. And it must
be a real tree – a fake one just will not do. I detest fake trees – let’s call
a spade a spade. The term artificial is too nice a word for what it really is.
For starters, it must be
a fir tree. Frazer or Canaan or Noble; any of the three are fine, although of
the three, I do prefer a Frazer fir. Next, it must be massive. Big enough that it
is necessary to trim a little off the top for it to fit in the house. And as to
the width, the wider the better. I once had a tree that measured slightly over
eight feet at its widest point, and I was in Christmas tree heaven. Also, it
must be (nearly) perfect – no big holes, no asymmetry happening, no crooked
trunk. A near perfect, tall, wide, huge fir tree. Nothing else will do. One
year we got a tree that ended up being much smaller once we got it in the house
than I had originally thought it to be. I could not sleep that first night, due
to the dread and horror I felt because of the tree not being big enough. I was devastated
– it felt as if my world was ending. The feelings I had due to the tree being
smaller than I wanted it to be were invasive, overwhelming, and unshakeable.
This was unimaginable, and would just not do. This was unacceptable, and the
season just would not be right with this paltry, mere six-foot-tall tree. I was
shaken to the core; in fact, I think it would be accurate to say that I was
traumatized due to the tree being too small. The tree must be massive; if not,
it feels as if there is something missing – as if something is not right, as if
I am being left out. And as you just read, having a small tree is a traumatic
experience for me.
I go through a ritual
beginning the first night the tree is up and decorated that occurs each night
just before I go to bed. I will stand in front of the tree (all other lights in
the house must be turned off) and simply look at it and admire it. Those damned
emotions I mentioned are heightened during these times; I feel as if I am
satisfied, as if everything is right with the world, and at least in that
moment, everything is ok. And this strange phenomenon will only occur if the
tree is big enough, tall enough, wide enough, and nearly perfect enough.
Anything less and those feelings will elude me, and in their place, panic will
set in. This routine goes on each night until Christmas Eve, but in the
meantime, another strange thing begins to happen. In the beginning, I am at
peace and content; however, over time, I began to count down the days left to
admire the tree. “Just 14, 13, 12…days left”, and the closer it gets to the big
day, the less of those initial feelings I have, and the more angst, panic and
dread I began to experience, knowing that it will soon be “over.”
Presents
I love presents, and for
me the joy comes in giving, not so much in getting. Don’t get me wrong, I love
to tear into presents Christmas day as much as the
next person. However, it is truly the giving that is a beloved tradition of the
season. I begin making a list early, and add to it often. I research those presents
exhaustively, until I find what I believe is the one they will enjoy most. I
have always bought more than I have received – always. I go overboard for the
one I love and care for. Purchasing presents for that person, meticulously wrapping
them, and then presenting those presents to that person bring me immense joy.
And the wrapping! Holy
smokes! First off, I purchase wrapping paper, bows, ribbon, and gift tags with
the intention of matching them for each present. I am anal about this, and do
not take it lightly. Everything must match. I have been known to have a present
wrapped – ribbons and bows intact, only to discover that none of the gift tags
match. In those cases, the tags I have just will not suffice; a trip to the
store to get matching tags is imperative. And those “stick-on” gift tags?
Hypocrisy! I just will not use them. It takes me what seems to be forever when
wrapping presents. Each one must be “perfect.” I used to get out the tape
measure to ensure each the wrapping paper was exactly even. Nowadays I tend to
eyeball it or use the scissors to get it as close as possible. I am meticulous
with the entire process. I begin the wrapping process early in the season and
do a little most days, as 1) I have a lot of presents to wrap 2) being so
meticulous is time consuming. It takes me at least two weeks to finish wrapping
all the presents and 3) that anxiety I mentioned at the beginning of this
writing kicks in after wrapping just a few presents, and I have to stop
wrapping at that point.
When it comes to opening
presents, you do not open them first thing Christmas morning. Why start with
the best part of the day, and then not have it to look forward to all day?
There is always one present to open on Christmas Eve, and then you open the
stockings first thing Christmas morning. But then
the rest of the presents wait to be opened until later that day, so that the
mystery and fun is there to be anticipated.
Past
Ways I Celebrated
Alcohol
I am in recovery from
drugs and alcohol; the latter being my first drug of choice. Remember, I stated
at the beginning of this writing that I do not have a normal relationship with
several things – alcohol being one. I’ve been sober now just over 13 years;
however, when I was drinking, there was no time like Christmas
to imbibe. And imbibe I did! My favorite libation of the season was Evan
Williams Egg Nog, and my, how I did enjoy it. I would buy a case of it at the
start of the season, and by season’s end, that entire case would be gone. There
were many a night spent celebrating, that to this day I cannot recall. Back
then, if I was celebrating Christmas, I was
drinking – the two went hand-in-hand. It was remarkable, once I got sober and
watched Christmas movies for the first time as such (ones that I had watched countless
times), how many scenes I became aware of for the first time.
Journals
For several years I kept
a daily journal, recording all Christmas activities and more. I would purchase
an empty journal book each year, and would start entering each day’s events
beginning November 1st. I recorded every day, even those wherein we
did nothing Christmas related. Every little detail – what we did, where we
went, dates, times, even what we had for dinner each day. Every detail,
regardless of how minuscule or benign it may have been, found itself recorded
for prosperity, or for whatever the heck I was writing it all down for. There
would be days at a stretch that I would forget to record in the journal, and I
would panic, as if a disaster had occurred or was imminent, should I fail to
record those days. I would ask my then wife for details of sometimes days at a
time, even though many of the day’s occurrences had little or nothing to do
with the holiday. I HAD to get every day recorded – without exception. I HAD to
record my Christmases.
Losses
If you are still here,
still reading, thank you, and bravo. You are either as crazy as the author or
more curious than a certain monkey of childhood book reading fame. For your
sake, I am going to assume the latter. And as you have seen, my “celebrating”
of the season is – well, shall we say, anything but “normal.” I actually have a
hypothesis about a reason behind the insanity, which I will get to in the next
section. But first, I need to give you some background – a little foundation to
the likely reason for that insanity.
That foundation can be
summed up in one word. It is such a small word, yet one with such immense
ramifications. That one small, yet mighty word…loss. Yep, it is loss, I
believe, that plays such a significant role in how my celebration of the season
plays out. But before I get to that hypothesis, allow me to indulge in the
relaying to you those losses. They are significant and poignant, especially at Christmastime,
because the holidays spent with those lost were so memorable and special, prior
to their losses. I have experienced more losses than will be recorded here – I
am mentioning only those losses that pertain specifically to Christmas.
There are many, so I
will go in chronological order. First up was my maternal grandfather—the person
I most admired and looked up to. He had a heart attack while snow birding in
Florida. I was 19. My maternal grandmother would follow suit shortly
thereafter; she passed away when I was 22. I fondly recall going to their house
on Christmas Eve every year during grade school. It was a tradition without
which Christmas just would not have been the same. They would have a fire in
the fireplace downstairs, and the basement would be decorated – tree and all,
and we would have dinner and open presents with them. These memories are some
of my happiest of the season from my childhood.
The third loss would
shake me to the core – when I was just 24 and she just 59, my mom lost her
seven-year battle to multiple myeloma. It was a nasty disease that would
eventually rob her of the ability to walk or even to talk. At the heart of all
my Christmases growing up was my mom. She was my rock in general growing up,
and Christmas was a special time with her. The first Christmas after I had
moved out, I bought a huge (remember my love for huge trees) Christmas tree and
took it over to my parent’s house to surprise my mom with. I will never forget
the look of wonder, awe, and joy on her face as I pulled it through the door
into the house. The more tree that came into the house, the wider her eyes got.
She was ecstatic, and I truly believe it made her Christmas that year.
When microwave ovens were
first becoming popular, I bought her one for a Christmas present. And as you
read earlier, I bought my parents a new living room set for a present one year.
Mom always made Christmas extra special for us kids growing up. She always went
out of her way to give us the presents we wanted, and did kind, thoughtful
little things that showed us how loved we were. Christmas truly was special
because of mom – as a child, and even more so as an adult. I still have a
picture of her standing in front of their tree wearing the dress I gave her for
Christmas. She was several years into her cancer diagnosis by then, and you can
see it on her face. However, the look of joy in her eyes outshines any sickness
that may be there. I will always treasure that picture.
By the time I was just
24, I had lost the three closest people to me. However, death was just getting
warmed up, and I had only just begun to experience its losses and devastation
in my life.
The grim reaper would
avoid me for a little over a decade, until it reared its ugly head once again
in 2006. That would be the first of two years with two major losses each year.
That first year was 2006, and in it, my absolute best friend Steve died—on my
41st birthday. August 5, 2006. My wife and I had just come home from a birthday
celebration dinner, to a message on the answering machine, informing us that
Steve had died earlier that evening.
One of my favorite Christmas
Eves was when my dad (This was several years after my mom had died) and my best
friend Steve went to church with us and then came back to our place for dinner
and to visit and exchange a few presents. That would have been 1998 or
thereabouts, as near as I can recall. To this day, I still reminisce about that
Christmas Eve, a bittersweet memory, to be sure. On Christmas of 2005, Steve
gave my ex-wife and me a lighted baker snowman for a present. The baker aspect
because I love to bake; the snowman because she collected snowmen. I still have
that snowman and put it out every Christmas. It has become one of my most
cherished decorations. That would be the last Christmas I would get to spend
with my friend – he would go on to pass away that following year.
As bad as all these
were, it was to get worse—much worse! The second year with two losses was not
far around the corner. 2008. My father, with whom I had become close, was the
first of the two losses that year. He died May of 2008. Then, almost at the end
of that same year—mid-December, while wrapping Christmas presents nonetheless,
I got the phone call no parent wants to receive. A phone call informing me that
Ryan, my son and only child, had been killed in a car accident. He was just 22.
My world was rocked and will never be the same.
This one is the most
difficult to write about, as I lost Ryan twice. The Christmases I spent with
him were some of the best of my life. I still remember his first one (He was
born just the previous month), he in his bassinet, lying under the tree,
staring up at it in awe (at least I like to think so). The times we celebrated
together – decorating the tree, then watching a holiday movie, and eating
pumpkin ice cream, driving around town, and looking at lights, opening presents
Christmas morning. Ryan made the holidays better – simply by being there. I
loved my boy; I loved being a dad. His making me a dad was the greatest gift
ever bestowed upon me, and I cherished it like I have never cherished anything
since, or ever will again.
But this section is
about loss, and earlier I mentioned losing him twice. He was 22 when he was
killed in that damned car accident, which is the second time I lost him. The
first time occurred when his mother decided she no longer wanted him to be in
my life.
She began what would
become a successful seven-year campaign to ensure that Ryan would not be in my
life whatsoever. At first, it was the phone calls to him from her when I had
him, followed by wrapped presents she would send him during my visitation time.
He would talk with her or open his presents and letters from her, and then come
out of his room crying, saying that he wanted to go home. Eventually, she would up the ante, scheduling
fun trips to Myrtle Beach, or equally enticing vacations, during the times that
I was supposed to have him. All of this, coupled with the trash talk by his mom
and her boyfriend about me and my wife, eventually had their intended
affect—Ryan started to not want to come when it was my time to have him. At one
point, she even took me to court to take away all my visitation rights. The
judge saw right through her BS and increased my time with Ryan over the summer
from two weeks to six weeks. Alas, this only heightened her resolve to succeed
in keeping him from me. Shortly after the court date, I drove the normal two
hours to pick Ryan up for my court appointed time with him. He was in the car
and handed me a piece of paper in his handwriting stating when he would and
would not come visit. Although it was in his handwriting, it was obvious that
he had been coached as to what to write. Once he handed me the paper, his mom
came out of the store where she had been hiding, got in the car, and she and
her boyfriend drove off—with Ryan still in the car!
Eventually, Ryan quit
answering my calls, and would go on to have nothing to do with me. He was 12
the last time I saw him, and as you read earlier, he died in an automobile
accident 10 years later.
I would like to say that
Ryan’s death was the last of my losses of those close to me, but unfortunately,
there would be one more. Carolyn, my cousin on my dad’s side, that I had spent
many holidays with, died in 2011 while I was in rehab. She was just 67. We had
been getting together with her and her family for Thanksgiving every year since
my mom had died, and we had started a newer tradition of going to her house
over the Christmas season as well. Thanksgiving and Christmas have never been
quite the same since she died.
I have had an on-again,
off-again relationship with my sister for most of our adult lives. It currently
is in an off-again status, and has been so for several years. Each time the
relationship is ended, it is at her doing, and over little, seemingly
meaningless things. She will get angry and immediately cut off all
communication, and it will be that way, at times, for as long as a decade. When
we do speak, we always enjoy celebrating Christmas
together, which makes the seasons when we are not communicating that much more
painful. My brother (her twin) and I have a good relationship – as good as is
possible, being that he has several mental deficiencies. His mental state and intellect
are that of an immature 10-12-year-old. As such, while I am grateful for it,
communication with him is limited, and unfulfilling at best.
Unfortunately, my losses
have not just been attributed to death; although that is certainly bad enough.
Upon completing rehab and getting sober, and doing extensive work to make me a
better, improved, sober me, I had high hopes that my then wife, with whom I had
celebrated almost two decades worth of Christmases, would recognize those efforts,
and consider getting back together and giving our marriage another try. Sadly,
that would not be the case; in fact, not only did she not want to give our
marriage another chance, she wrote me an email just days after our divorce was
final. The contents, in part, of that email stated, “Well, it’s over. Our
marriage was a mistake. I don’t love you and I never did.”
The woman I met within
10 months of returning to Ohio is the most recent to be added to this
ever-growing list of losses that impact the holiday. I had been single the
better part of a decade (save a fiasco in the early 2010s in Florida that I
won’t get into here), and was elated when we met and hit it off. We got engaged
and things were going well until I got sick and became disabled and unable to
work. After three years of being together and as many amazing Christmases
together, she ended the relationship because, in her words, “I don’t want to be
with someone who’s disabled. I’m not your caretaker. I didn’t sign up for
this.” Not that I wanted, asked for or needed a caretaker, but nonetheless,
those were her exact words, and my heart was once again shattered, and I once
again find myself joining the ranks of the singles, and worse, celebrating
Christmases without a partner once again.
My
Hypothesis
So, you’ve read about
how I celebrate the season, the madness therein, and my losses. Take all those,
mix them together, and you have the makings for what I believe is why I
approach the season as I do. I believe it is a combination of past traditions
with loved ones now gone – left either via death or breakup, that has led to
why I celebrate the season the ways I do, including the madness therein.
Although I didn’t
mention it, abuse in my childhood and adolescence also plays a role in my
hypothesis. My childhood was riddled with abuse at the hands of my father, be
it literally from his hands, a belt, a branch from the tree that I had to get,
shoes – whatever was close and convenient to help him carry out one of his many
fits of rage. As a kid at Christmastime, I would often look out the window
across the street, drawn to the light in the neighbor’s windows. I would look
wistfully into their windows, as if longing for something inside their homes
that was missing in mine. I mentioned to my sister that I would look longingly
into the neighbor’s window wanting something, to which she replied, “Yeah – a
home with no abuse.” One of the few exceptions, however, was Christmastime –especially
Christmas Eve and Day. On those days, my father was a little kinder, more
patient, and easy-going. On those days, it (almost) felt like a (somewhat)
normal family, although I must admit, I had no idea what a normal family would
have felt like.
So, how does all of this
play a role in the making of my hypothesis? Here is what I have surmised, as
best I could…
As you have read, at one
time, there were a lot of very special people who played a significant role in
my Christmas celebrations. During the holidays, special memories and traditions
were created, that remain near and dear to me to this day. Growing up, Christmastime
felt almost magical – closer to a “normal, real” family than most other times
of the year.
Those times that I
celebrated the season; whether as a kid at home, or as an adult in my own home
left an indelible mark upon my very being. Looking back, some of my fondest
memories are of Christmases spent with friends and loved ones who have long
since passed. Those times were some of the highlights of my life – opening presents
with my son Ryan, seeing the look on my mom’s face when she saw her living room
set and when she opened her microwave, spending that Christmas Eve with my best
friend Steve, or opening that snowman gift from him another year, driving
around looking at lights or through a light display with my most recent ex,
planning how to surprise her with a favorite gift, flying my siblings down to
Florida and decorating my place for the season, putting the ornaments from my
grandparents tree on my tree every year…
It was those special
feelings and emotions I would experience with loved ones during the season that
play a role in my Christmases today.
Poignant memories and
feelings like those experienced while celebrating Christmases with loved ones
long ago will surface once again at the beginning of each holiday season. Thus,
the excitement and joy and eager anticipation of the upcoming Christmas each
year. And it is here, with these feelings, where my hypothesis begins.
As the season begins, I
experience joy, happiness, excitement, and more. This continues for the first
two to three weeks, until I sense the season’s end. Once that happens, my
emotions associated with the season begin to nosedive. What once was joy and
excitement begins turning into sadness, depression, dread, and grief. This
typically occurs one week or so into December. It is then that the obvious
becomes the inevitable, which is that it will all soon be over. It looks
something like “In ‘x’ number of weeks or days it (Christmas) will be over,”
and a dread comes over me and overshadows any previously experienced positive
emotions and feelings in regards to the holiday.
And while I no longer am
sobbing by Christmas Eve, I am utterly depressed and shattered, and at times
feel as if I won’t be able to catch my breath, or to breath. This nearly
unbearable, miserable depression, sadness, and dread begin two to three weeks
prior to Christmas day and intensify exponentially as the big day draws closer.
With each passing day, that mass of misery gets worse, until it is almost
impossible to truly enjoy Christmas Eve and day. I feel devastated, shattered,
broken – as if my heart has been ripped out and I have been left behind – alone,
unloved, and uncared for.
I have since come to
realize – and here is that hypothesis I have been going on about: the emotion I
am most experiencing during the holiday (especially towards the end of the
season) nowadays is grief. The holidays were so emotional (in a good way) and
so joyful and were such amazing experiences in the past with my since lost
loved ones – whether lost to death, divorce, or break-up, that they burned that
indelible image and memory of those loved ones forever in my mind. And nowadays,
when the season rolls around, it immediately conjures up déjà vu and memories
of loved ones lost. Those memories and thoughts of loved ones are very vivid
and intense, and accompany those emotions of excitement and joy at the start of
the season. And thus, begins anew every year those traditions I have laid out
here – the oft times maddening adherence to a long list of “must-do”
activities, traditions, and celebrations. Adherence to the list and to the
“proper ways” to celebrate each thing is imperative; any deviation is deemed a
major transgression.
For the first part of
the season, all is right with the world. I enjoy the season, its festivities,
and the celebrations thereof. However, as soon as I am reminded (usually by the
calendar) that the end is inevitable, I become sad and depressed, and dread
overtakes me. And as you have read, by season’s end, I am an emotional wreck.
I believe that those
feelings of joy and anticipation that I experience with the onset of the season
are my feeling a connection to those lost loved ones, and consequently – and
subconsciously, as if I am “getting” them back once again into my life. As I
experience those celebrations and traditions that I at one time experienced
with them, it feels subconsciously as if they have reentered my life and, if
only temporarily, that I have not lost them. And this is why, I believe, that I
have such a strict adherence to a list of rules that I must follow, when it
comes to celebrating the season. “If I follow these traditions that I practiced
when they were living – decorate, trim the tree, wrap the presents, etc., just
right, I will “get, or have” my loved ones back. This is all happening
subconsciously in the back of my mind; however, it is driving me to continue
the madness, season after season.
And this is ultimately
what I realized, why I used to sob on Christmas Eve – why I could barely get
out of bed to open presents on Christmas day. That overwhelming, crushing grief
I feel is me feeling and experiencing those losses all over again. As the
season draws to a close, that means that those celebrations and traditions, the
likes of which trigger and bring to life, so to speak, the memories of lost
loves to the point of “having them” once again, are soon coming to an end, and
with those endings, “having them” (those lost loved ones) again is coming to an
end. In other words, I am losing all those loved ones once again. I am
experiencing those losses all over again. Every single. Christmas. Each season,
I experience (albeit subconsciously, it is still just as painful) the
“regaining” of lost loves ones into my life, only to then experience the
painful, anguish, wrenching despair and heartache of losing them all over
again.
Any seasonal activities
after the holiday are extremely painful. For example, hearing Christmas music
or watching a Christmas movie after Christmas day is difficult for me. It is
akin to going through old love letters, or looking at Facebook memories of an
ex who has broken my heart, or of going through the personal effects of a loved
one who has passed. Either scenario stirs up memories of something and someone
who is no more, and is no longer in my life. The negative feelings that one
would have in those situations are exactly the feelings I have when engaging in
seasonal activities post-Christmas. Doing anything related to the season after
it has ended is extremely agonizing, and I try to avoid anything related to
Christmas as much as possible once the big day has passed. The very things that
evoke joy at the beginning of the season evoke sadness, depression, grief, and
despair come season’s end and thereafter. Any activities after the season serve
only serve as painful reminders of loved ones lost.
It took me decades to
come to this conclusion – to form this hypothesis. While knowing this helps to
some extent, it certainly does not eliminate the anguish and grief of the
season. What’s the saying? Knowledge is power? I think in this case, knowledge
is simply that – knowledge.
Although I am unsure how
or if it even does fit into my hypothesis, I feel there is something else that
is noteworthy of relaying here. I used to have very vivid dreams about
Christmas that ended only a few years ago. In these dreams, the same scenario
always took place. Whether I was with my mom, or at home with my wife, it was
Christmas Eve (season’s end), and I had not yet purchased either a tree or
presents for others. In the dreams, I would make a mad dash in a desperate
attempt to find a tree or presents.
Those frantic attempts
would always end in failure. The tree would look huge outside, but when I would
bring it inside and put it up, it would be extremely small – just two to three
feet tall. And those presents would be as elusive as a current Super Bowl win
is to the Steelers – nowhere to be found. An overwhelming sentiment filled
those dreams: I could not believe it was Christmastime already. In each dream,
it literally felt as if it had been Christmas just days or weeks ago, and I was
astonished that it was Christmas again already.
There is one more
phenomenon that I want to convey to you, regarding the season, that I think is also
particularly worthy of noting here. And that is, in addition to the many
emotions and other aspects, the similarity between my relationship with
Christmas and a relationship between two partners. One wherein one partner is
madly in love with the other and all in, and the second is not invested in the
relationship, and the love given them is not reciprocated.
By season’s end, along
with the plethora of other emotions that I experience, there is one more – one
you may be surprised to learn about. That other emotion, while somewhat hidden
behind the other, more active emotions, is relief. I experience some relief at
the end of each Christmas season, almost as in the case mentioned above: having
given my all to an inattentive partner who has not returned my love or matched
my efforts. It is as if I am exhausted in trying to get out of the season what
it just cannot give me, and finally, after having given it my all for so long
and becoming exhausted in so doing, as well as the futility therein, relief
comes in the stopping of the celebrating of the season. It is as if after
having tried for so long, so vigorously, yet unsuccessfully to “keep” those
lost loved ones, relief comes in the letting go of the keeping of those
traditions and in the celebrating the season. This relief comes similarly as it
would in no longer trying to gain the affection of that partner who is no
longer interested.
Wrapping
It Up (See What I Did There?)
And so, you have reached
the conclusion of my writing about my relationship with Christmas. Unfortunately,
this is not a conclusion for me. For me, the madness will continue. Another
season will come, and I will begin the Christmas tradition “dance” anew. And
those damned emotions will run the gamut yet another year – from joy and
anticipation to grief and loss. I have had therapy for my crazy relationship
with Christmas. Perhaps that is why I no longer sob on Christmas Eve. Perhaps
that is why I no longer have difficulty getting out of bed to open presents.
And perhaps that is why I no longer have those vivid Christmas dreams. Perhaps;
however, there is still a lot to work on, if I am ever to have a “normal”
relationship with Christmas. Perhaps.
Merry Christmas. May
your celebrations be joyous and your relationship with the season be
normal.
