AUDIO: Jolly good?

Tis the season... of very exhausting emotions

I’ve worked in not one, but two, Christmas shops. One was open all year round, on Edinburgh’s Royal Mile and I’d stand behind my counter, coated in glitter, humming along to Christmas songs (played on bagpipes) wrapping up baubles and fairy tree toppers, even as the sun blazed outside. I loved it.

I also used to embark, every year, on December the 1st, a festive challenge. I’d have to do one festive thing each day, in the run up to Christmas, whether that was trying out a Christmas sandwich or going to a carol concert. I throw myself into ‘silly season’ booking drinks with friends, wearing an excess of glitter and sequins (I have to make it excess as, truthfully, I wear glitter and sequins most days any way so I need to do something to make my outfits seasonal) so if you want someone to accompany you to an ice rink/Christmas market/pantomime then I’m your pal.

But, beneath this shimmery, cheerful coating, is a secret. As, like most people who have lost someone, I find the festive period very difficult. I’m trying to fake it til I make it most of the time, pushing tradition and joy with frightening gusto. Which, I don’t think is that bad a strategy. If I’m going to feel miserable I may as well feel miserable in a Santa hat, right?!

There are so many different reasons why Christmas is hard for people. Even if you haven’t gone through grief, family relationships may be tricky or you’ll feel reminded of where you were last year and feel, perhaps, that little has moved on or changed. Loss, of all kinds, is felt so keenly. For me, I find the enforcement of what a happy, traditional family unit looks like - whether that’s on Christmas cards, or through the fake veil of Instagram Stories, very difficult. Then there’s the flashbacks.

My mum, before she died, was in a coma on Christmas Day. I have memories of putting out the nativity set that she so loved and gently narrating what I was doing, as she lay, unresponsive in bed. Moments like that will forever pollute the season, no matter how much gold eyeshadow or red lipstick I paint on.

It’s tiring.

I often feel not enough credit is given for just how fucking hard it is to smile sometimes. But I also need to remember that it’s alright if I don’t manage to muster up all the cheer. I won’t be letting anyone down.

So I’m trying something different this year. I said to my dad “let’s aim for an OK Christmas”. No pressure to pretend. No feelings of failure if we end up sobbing on the sofa, or fighting over potatoes. Saying that, I’m also not going to revert into someone I’m not - I love how this season brings out the wild side of people, how even your most sensible friend will suggest “just one more, for the road” and how people crack out their special, velvet dress and wear it in the office, at 2pm on a Tuesday. I guess what I’m aiming for is actually enjoying this Christmas season, not simply forcing myself to in a false way. And that’s what this old poem (pasted below and read above) is all about.

How do you feel about this Christmas season? Do you just want to curl up in a ball and ignore it? Or do you want to throw yourself into it? Perhaps a bit of both? However you feel let me know and know I understand it, and am here for you. I promise not to force a santa hat on your head.

Do you ever want to skip Christmas?
Squeeze your eyes shut for 25 days?
Please, don't call me a Scrooge
I'm the one with glitter up to my elbows
Who can not only endure
But enjoy
A 9-5 of Deck The Halls
Played on repeat
On bagpipes
I tell wide-eyed children
"Santa's my boss"
He leaves boot craters in the snow, and
He only communicates through fax
They don't get that last bit
But it amuses me
I've worked in two all-rounders
So good, I was head hunted for one more
My ambitions have since advanced
Which is a shame
I did like smelling of cinnamon in June

Still, on the 1st I'm
Choking down a mince pie
Screaming "it's tradition"
As the camembert goes cold and salty
With my family's tears
Don't tell me Love Actually is reductive and sexist
And act like that's an original thought
I'm sorry
But this elf's rosy-cheeked smile is 
A plastercast
I'm keeping spirits up 
So you can definitely 
Smile at Hugh Grant

It's only recently I've managed to pop a cracker
Without seeing a crown skewiff on her head
I've tried so hard 
To listen to the Queen's speech 
Without cranking it up so she can hear
Finding Joy
That's a very serious task
It's tiring
So can I nap through advent?
But
Promise me
When I wake up I'd like a stocking
Crunchy with wrapping paper
And possibility
At the end of my bed