Christmas, Sickness, and a Note to My Future Self.

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Tis the season to be jolly... and sick as a dog.

For the second year in a row, I’ve arrived on Christmas day bearing gifts in one hand and wadded up tissues and empty cough drop wrappers in the other. When my sore throat and mildly runny nose evolved into a deep, rattling cough a few days ago, I was struck with a sense of deja vu about the whole situation. Sure enough, I checked my journal and an old blog post and read an almost verbatim retelling of my current status.

I wanted to brush it off as pure coincidence, or at least just that time of year when germs are being passed from person to person like plates of Christmas cookies. But a voice inside me thought otherwise. “Your body cannot cope with the stress you put it through during this time of the year,” it said. “Why haven’t you learned the lesson to be kinder to yourself?”

I’ve long been aware of my perfectionistic tendencies and how they sometimes take run of my life, but when Christmas rolls around, I’ve blindly accepted it as a part of the seasonal routine. Of course I want to find the perfect gifts for the 25+ people on my Christmas list. Of course I want to give generously to everyone and take part in every Secret Santa exchange to which I’m invited. Of course I want to wrap my gifts in a way that would make Martha Stewart proud. Of course I will go to every family gathering and see everyone I can on my mom’s side, my step-dad’s side, and my husband’s side. Of course I will bring a potluck dish that appeals to a variety of dietary concerns and is also delicious. Of course I will be primped and primed and coiffed for holiday photos.

Behind every “of course” that I try to project outward in the name of holiday cheer is a hefty dose manic energy fueled by what I interpret as other’s expectations of me. I want to be thought of as creative and thoughtful and a “good” daughter/sister/cousin/friend, and the way to do that at Christmas is through my presence (no matter how spread thin I feel) or my presents (no matter how much pressure, stress, and money the gift-buying or gift-making process involves). Rather than taking a step back and adopting a realistic, balanced, and more wholesome view of the holidays that would be more in line with my values, I just put my head down and bulldozed straight into December, giving into the perfectionistic demands and an idealized vision of the holiday season. It’s easier to plow through than to try and change things. It’s no wonder I end up collapsing by the end of it all.

As I sit here post crash-and-burn (though not yet fully recovered), it’s hard for me to understand how I was so blind to what I’ve been doing to myself over the past few Christmases, especially this year. My stress level really was so out of control I was dreaming about to-do lists and gift wrapping themes. At one point, I ended up with three surplus gifts for one person because I couldn’t stop buying something “better” for her. I often moan about how we’re missing the point of the season by being so materialistic, and yet I failed to see how I’m playing into this by equating my value as a daughter/sister/cousin/friend with what I give someone as a gift.

Most years I come away from the holidays threatening to escape to a snowy village in Germany next Christmas instead of celebrating with family. I won’t deny that I still fantasize about that, but I know running away won’t solve my problems, especially because I carry most of them within me.

When I come back to read this post next December 1, I want my future self to remember to be kind to herself, first and foremost. And from that kindness, remember that gifts are simply a holiday tradition (and a fairly unimportant one in the grand scheme of things), and not some secret expression of worthiness. Whether you choose to hand-make or buy, and whether those gifts cost $5 or $50, they are simply a way to say, “I’m thinking about you this holiday.” Remember that presence is always worth more than presents, but even that has a limited supply-- and it’s okay to say “no” when that supply runs low. 

With a little bit of grace towards myself, I’m hoping that future Christmases won’t leave me so depleted that I’m sick in bed until after New Year’s. Someday, I’d like to look forward to Christmas as a simple, joyous, family-focused time instead of one that needs to be managed, tolerated, and endured.

But for now, please pass the tissues and NyQuil.