Wake Me Up When the Holidays Are Over

*It’s the Most Depressing Time of the Year

*Sung to “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year”

Yeah, not feeling it this year. In the background, I am hearing holiday ads on the TV. I look at the calendar again. It’s the 5th. 20 more shopping days til Christmas. 13 days until what would have been my 34th wedding anniversary or the second unniversary.

I won’t bother taking a look at my checking account again. Why darken my already dismal state of mind? But my thoughts drift here as I want to send my kids a Christmas present. But the postage to ship something is about the limit of my budget so it’ll probably just be another soulless Amazon gift card. (Sorry, kids.)

There will be no cookie baking. No kids coming home for the holidays. Not that I could fit them into my new tiny home, anyway.

I go back and forth between rage and grief.

Rage toward my was-band for his betrayals and the devastating consequences dropped at my feet.

Rage at myself for the years I tolerated the bullshit.

Rage over the fact that this past year was supposed to be recovering from my divorce and building up my new life-complete with a regular income. Instead, I spent the year in breast cancer treatment.

I am mad as hell that our culture doesn’t honor women who stay home to raise their kids. I’m mad as hell that each day, I seem to meet more and more women in this same fettle.

I can almost imagine an imaginary conversation from 25 years ago. I’m chatting with a few other fellow stay at home mom/educators and we’re discussing curriculum and favorite recipes.

Then some fucking killjoy speaks up and says, oh, by the way ladies, your family is going to go down in flames. In 25 years, you’ll be divorced, and broke. A few of you will have developed breast cancer too.

Good thing you’re resourceful and thrifty because you’re going to need it!

Yeah, that pisses me off, too. I can do a really thorough job of working myself into a fomenting sea of rage. Just in case you didn’t notice.

I am angry over the fact that another Christmas is upon us and I would rather it would just go away.

Perhaps I should just give myself a pep talk.

Count my blessings. Go encourage someone else. Make some new traditions.

I can even put it into some cheery memes!

Yeeeeeeah. About that.

That all takes energy that I don’t have right now.

And like the meme says that triggered these reflections, I don’t want to be called resilient (and yes, I know I am).

I want soft. I want easy. I want a stable income and secure housing. I don’t want to make fucking lemonade out of the lemons, I want to take a flame thrower to the goddamn lemon grove.

What makes those desires even more acutely painful is the other voice within that screeches personal development platitudes.

Just try harder. Work more. Create the life you dream of! Just 10 hours a week and yes, you too can create a six-figure gig!

Or how about this-just get my vibrational frequency up higher. Obviously, I haven’t done this very well because, well, look at the fruit “manifested” in my life.

I just need to remove fear from life and allow the blessings to flow! Positive Vibes Only! (I just threw up in my mouth a little typing that last bit.)

I will read a few more books. Do I keep getting shit sandwiches because on some unconscious level, I believe that is all I deserve?

So, I dive into Jung. And reflect on the messages I received as a young girl growing up in a lower blue-collar family where “money doesn’t grow on trees” and the language of scarcity surrounds every trip to Kmart and the grocery store.

Perhaps I can retrain my subconscious to undo those self-fulling prophecies that keep my hobbled. Maybe that’s the problem-I am trapped by my scarcity mindset.

And while I’m doing this, yet another story crosses my feed about how yet another 20 or 30-something “influencer” is pulling in big bucks on TikTok. “I started from nothing, you can too!” the smiling young woman says. (Cue to the course they’re selling.)

Yeah, that stirs up pissy feelings too.

Are you getting a glimpse into the inner workings of my mind? If you’re familiar with Internal Family Systems (IFS) these voices that volley back and forth in my head are all parts of me.

The wounded, rejected child. The betrayed spouse. The cheerleader. The drill sergeant that tells me to get my shit together.

And then there’s that angry part. Clearly, she’s got plenty to say.

They all have something to say. And all the parts deserve to be heard too.

How do I stop this madness in my mind? The persistent, repetitive and gloomy thoughts? The arguing amongst the parts that leaves my head spinning.

How do I sojourn through a holiday season that just feels so damn heavy and hard?

I don’t know. Platitudes aren’t helpful.

And why am I even putting this out there? I’m mean seriously, you’re probably having a rough time too and could really use some encouragement.

Perhaps you’re reading my woes and are wondering what the hell I’m complaining about. Because I know there is a LOT of suffering out there. Being in a few breast cancer communities, you don’t have to look far. And I am sooooooo very sorry for the suffering you are experiencing right now.

Or maybe reading this you can take courage in a backhanded sort of way that you are not alone in your bah-humbug holiday feelings.

Perhaps this can also be a reminder that a lot of those smiling people you’re seeing out and about, may very well be suffering too.

So please be extra kind to everyone you meet.

Thanks so much for reading. You can find me around the internet at www.theresawinn.com, on Facebook, LinkedIn and Instagram. If you’d like to support my writing in a small way, feel free to buy me a coffee.