Why “Holiday Blues” Is More Than Seasonal
It’s a pre-existing condition
There’s no way to discount the obstacles that gripped me in 2019, which is the way life goes when aging is more than just the brief reminder that time could be running out.
It’s also compounded by the end of what was definitely a chaotic decade, that began on an even footing, but is now exiting with loads of optimism that I may never get back.
Certainly the direness of this ailing nation, that’s accompanied by the blaring headlines that scream out all the reasons why the world is a rotating minefield of unavoidable danger, doesn’t help to alleviate the never-ending symptoms that are aggravated by the terror of outside forces.
But the truth is that the overly-analyzed state of mind that creeps up during that time of year when we are coaxed into adopting “good cheer” is best described as the extension of the depth of helplessness and hopelessness, that becomes more intense when you’re tasked with the “award-winning” performance that buries that pain.
The Holiday blues is a real phenomenon for sure, when you consider how this intoxicating season of unparalleled joyfulness and viral opulence can overwhelmingly burden neglected hearts that have too keep beating through the glaring evidence of their destitute status.
As expected, timely articles go above and beyond the call of duty with baseless claims of how suicide rates rapidly increase during the holidays.
And while that hasn’t been proven, we can’t deny that depression doesn’t get considerably more serious, when facing the avalanche of messages from over-zealous retailers and nationwide announcements, persistently bullying us into the roles that we may not be emotionally or financially able to tackle.
The Trump administration keeps touting the falsehood of a “booming economy” with impressive numbers that are meant to convince weary Americans that somehow their ongoing plight isn’t a real life catastrophe.
But there’s no disputing the facts of how the average American worker is grossly over-worked and underpaid, with the complication of having to juggle multiple gigs in addition to the 9 to 5, that no longer provides the adequate security that we were bamboozled into believing was the norm.
The lack of salaried employment, with the benefits package that cautious employers are drastically reducing to nothing in order to maintain budgetary requirements, is the formidable epidemic of our existence.
The hustle to nowhere is the active reality that doesn’t permit the flexibility for celebratory events, demanding the expenditure that serves as visible proof of how good life has been to those who privately can’t relate.
There’s nothing more exhausting than putting up a front to accommodate the fulfillment of onlookers and recipients of the warranted evidence, of how you sacrifice your betterment, for the sake of that time of year, that dictates the rules outside of overall wellbeing.
The best part about getting older, has to be the developing realization of your worth as a human being, and how that can’t be a negotiable currency, that threatens to diminish why it’s more than okay to be a little bit more selfish, during the elaborate season of selflessness.
For those of us with the pre-existing condition, that becomes elevated when those challenges of “rising above it all” sounds that alarm, echoing how we’re too close to the dreaded edge — the available options at our disposal can only lead to the method of self-care and awareness, that places our urgent needs above everything else.
As another decade passes us by, it’s hard not to reminisce with nostalgic fervor, as we sift through the good, the bad, and the ugly, and try with all our might not to get carried into the abyss of dysfunctional disillusionment.
There are many who have a lot to cheer about, and then there are some of us who are too tired to even begin the planning stages of how we can attempt to boost our luck for the approaching new year.
But while we figure it all out, we need to preserve that energy for the days ahead, and that translates into not committing to more than we can feasibly handle, regardless of the judgments that will surely come our way.
There is so much power in being steadfast about those decisions that are live-saving in ways that family and friends can’t begin to comprehend.
That pressure to perform those duties at the expense of peace of mind, always makes a stealth appearance, as we surrender to the emphatic vibes of the jolly holidays, with numerous items on the very long list, and the visitations with folks who are only interested in those contributions.
The savior comes in the form of setting those boundaries that can’t be revised because of the high cost to the sufferer, who has spent all year keeping it together with every intention of not breaking that cycle of fragility, even for the festive birthday of Christ.
Of course it gets harder to be selfish when you’re a parent, and I can acknowledge that my advantage is not having those responsibilities, although I am managing familial obligations that are similarly inclined.
I guess my hope is that we can meet the lofty expectations of our stations without losing the tight grip on our mental compass, as we navigate the tightrope of emotional sustainability, during this whirlwind of glossy activities that are heightened by the dizzyingly display of good tidings.
Now more than ever we must be vigilante about preserving the spiritual mojo that we have left, until we can replenish what’s been wisely spent.
It’s okay to withdraw and reappear as required, and at the pace that you can afford.
Making those necessary adjustments during the holidays will empower the inspiration to maintain that disposition way past the new year.
And I can attest to the fact that it will be the greatest gift of them all.
