.......To be jolly? To be giving? To be thankful? To put on a happy face when all is not right with your world? For those who experience mental illness the holidays can be brutal. And for their caregivers as well. Mental illness doesn't take time off, it can in fact work over time through the holidays. This magical time of the year is bustling with expectations, which will either be met or feared. The build up can be too much to bear.
I used to love the Christmas season. I say "used to" because our last
few Christmases have been, simply put, sad.
Bipolar Disorder stole some very precious moments, days, weeks, months
from my son, and in turn from me. Far
too often, I feel I'm at battle with a disease we cannot physically see, except
in my son's eyes. And far too often I feel like waving the white flag of
surrender. This Christmas is one of
those times. Oh how I would love to wish
away the holidays. I know, that sounds
horrible! I cringed as I typed the
words. But even an illness free holiday is accompanied by stressful situations,
some simply unavoidable. There are gifts
to purchase, cards to send, parties to throw or attend. There are children's plays to see, trees to
decorate, cookies to bake and lights to hang! And hopefully in the midst of all
of the insanity, some thoughtful reflection as to the true meaning of it
all. At the heart of it for this
Catholic girl, it is a baby away in a manger.
And when reduced to it's simplicity, the mania of the season (pardon the
expression) appears slightly easier to tackle.
As a mother, I can't abandon our Christmas traditions for
an island and a drink with an umbrella.
Can I? No, I know that if I did,
I would regret what I didn't give my daughters who deserve life as usual, and
that includes the holidays. I would
regret what I would have cheated myself as well, their joy, their memories in
the making. But, I can choose the
elements of the season on which I focus my attention. For example, I am excusing myself from
sending Christmas cards this year. I
have been sending photo cards for many years, and for those of you who do as
well, you are keenly aware of how not-so-joyful an experience the taking of the
photo can be. One child always manages
to infect their siblings with their bah hum bugs. It starts with a pinch, the whining ensues,
the photographer, which is me, is perspiring like she just finished a hot yoga
class. And damn it the sun just went
down......we've lost the shot. Am I
alone in this? For many like myself, the
Christmas card photo represents where we are at this moment in time,
figuratively and literally. When one of
my kids is struggling, however, I can't bring myself to capture his struggle in
a snapshot, pain disguised as perfection in a picture, mailed to our loved
ones, none the wiser.
Have I significantly depressed you? That is not my
intention. I want you, if you are
challenged by the stress of the season, to give yourself permission to
eliminate a stress factor of your own. We do
so much out of obligation during the holidays, we owe it to ourselves to be
honest about the elements that cause us stress, sadness or anxiety. None of us is immune to it, so why not own
it? It is okay to include your not so proud moments when singing the praises of little Tommy and Suzie in your annual Christmas letter. Dare I suggest you even post some not so perfect photos for your end of the year social media montage?......sarcasm is a friend of mine of you haven't noticed. Even in the classic Christmas movies I watch religiously, in which the holidays appear idealistic, perfection is never achieved. But in the end the common denominator in most, is those who surround you. We can choose to set different
expectations for the holidays, ourselves, and our loved ones who are paddling
against the tide of mental illness. I
don't know whether my son will be seated at the table for Christmas dinner. I
hope for it, I pray for it, but I can't control it. I'm hoping I can suppress
my own expectations for what this year's Christmas should look like, and
appreciate the moments my son spends with us along the way. In theory, it sounds so evolved doesn't
it? In practice, well I will have to
let you know.
I know in my heart that my son would choose to
participate in all things Christmas if it didn't overwhelm him as it does. For him and so many others, family can be the
cause of stress and anxiety and depression. I struggle not to take this
personally, because I want family to be the safest place he could be. And it pains me to think of the special
moments and memories in the making he might be missing. So the mantra of the day is "no
pressure". This is a tall order for
someone who tends to aspire to the Martha Stewart version of all that is Christmas, guilty
as charged. I will burn this into my brain for the remainder of this season,
because the one thing I hold onto is hope.
I hope for small treasures such as "I love you" and "how
was your day", a hearty laugh at a silly, inappropriate joke (he is 18
after all) or sharing a cup of coffee. These
are memories in the making too, not to be cast aside as mundane. Therefor I will not wave the white flag of
surrender today. I will come to love Christmas again! 'Tis the season......for
hope.
