Midsummer Christmastime is a glitter-dusted fever dream that leaves me reeling. This time of year can be a lot to handle under the best of circumstances, and I know I’m far from unique in finding it a challenge. But I’ve got to say I’m feeling especially frustrated with myself at the moment, because despite coming through a year of so much goodness and growth I still can’t seem to get away from the ghosts of the season.
Let me say for the record, I am 100% in favour of Christmas ghosts and I certainly approve of them converting rich old misers into beloved philanthropists. But my haunting is less of the altruistic sort and more of the give-you-nightmares-and-f***-up-your-day-with-skyrocketing-anxiety sort.
Bats in the Basement
We all (I assume) have experienced some form of Big Awful Trauma (BAT? sure why not) at some point in our lives, and for whatever reason my biggest and bitey-est BATs throughout the years have coincided with the festive season. And every year around this time, those BATs come home to roost. Again.
I said in my last post that my bones are pretty smart, but it seems my central nervous system is somewhat slower on the uptake. Despite all the time and perspective and work I’ve put in to taming the BATs and burying the bodies, even with so many years of distance between me and them, as the scorching Yuletide sweeps over us my nervous system cranks the panic up to 11 as it recalls and re-lives being back in those traumatic situations. I know intellectually that I’m safe and stable, but my tell-tale heart is still fighting to force its way up out of my chest and escape through my mouth. Every year! It’s tiring nonsense and I’m mad about it 😦
Christmas Spirit
Most years I tend to retreat as much as I can and hold my breath until it’s all over, but this year it looks like my (very) nervous system has decided I’ll be Coping By Doing Stuff.
To keep up the pace I unwittingly committed to, it’s helped to think of myself as one of the creepy little kids from The Nightmare Before Christmas, fueled by candy and spite, so I’m less likely to notice my stitches unravelling like Sally’s. (Ugh. So. Dramatic! But yes, Kidnap the Sandy Claws is a pretty rousing December anthem when you need to feel motivated.)
So in between all the angst I’ve managed to meet several demanding deadlines, spring-clean the house, run errands all over town, bake cupcakes and banana bread, set up a Christmas tree with delightfully dark ornaments, choose and wrap thoughtful gifts for everyone on my list, keep my appointments, stay on top of business admin, re-pot my beautiful black houseplants, renew my prescriptions ahead of time, make fresh green smoothies for breakfast, take all the vitamins, go for evening walks and even squeeze in some naps.
I should be feeling accomplished but I honestly don’t know if this is progress or not. I feel like I’m doing all the “right” things, saying the words and sprinkling the salt, but I still can’t banish the bad spirits. How much work does it take and for how long, before you can properly leave the dark stuff behind? Or do your ghosts stay with you for good?
I’m very happy and very grateful for this peaceful little life I’ve built. But I’m also struggling and I think it’s important to acknowledge that. Maybe the best we can hope for is to sit quietly with our ghosts and face them with clear eyes, rather than trying to force them back into the grave. Maybe that sounds trite, but it’s all I have for now.
Love and fright,
The Ghoul Next Door xx
The Ghoul Next Door 