Forced festivity
Do you find yourself faking it at this time of year? Me too...
How are you?
I was going to say… I’m flat. That, my days, since December began, have felt numb around the edges. I wanted to share that in case anyone else is feeling the same. As, to look at me, you wouldn’t guess. I’m a grey husk, all wrapped up in glitter. I’ve been wearing a parade of different second-hand sequinned skirts, eyes washed in gold, lips cherry red. I’d have to tell you, for you to know.
I often feel this way, at this time of year. Like a festive façade. There were a few years in a row that I even did my overblown Instagram FESTIVE CHALLENGE, where, each day of December I’d do something, anything festive, and post a picture of it. The attempts became more and more frenzied as the month went on. It was a fool’s game, as the whipped cream lattes and slapped on glitter did little for my mood.
I’m known in my family for insisting on, in a BOOMING voice, TRADITION. We have to have this, we have to have that. It felt important, particularly in the years following mum’s death, to keep some sort of a semblance of a family intact.
This year, I don’t even have a Christmas tree. The corner of the room is empty and, on Monday, I vaguely attempted to get one but reasoned there would be little point, as we won’t be spending the actual day here. So far, I’ve been to parties, I’ve sung carols and I’ve cracked a cracker. On all occasions I didn’t feel particularly festive, but I didn’t feel false either. And that’s the key.
As, although December has brought with it the same out-of-body floaty feeling I think most grievers will be able to recognise, I haven’t felt ashamed of that. I haven’t tried to chase it away, with a ton of tinsel and mulled wine. I’ve just let myself be. I haven’t pushed myself into an image of who I should be at this time of year, and then felt like a failure for not achieving it.
I was going to write: I think this is something we all need more of: the ability to just ‘be.’ But that’s a simple, blanket statement that’s of no use to anyone. Particularly as I think we all – no matter what our current circumstances – may be feeling a little flat. I’d always attributed this seasonal malaise with mum, and then grandma, but I also think it could be that, and something else.
There’s all the usual things that could contribute: overworking ahead of time off, the overwhelming pressure placed (usually on mothers*) to make the time perfect (and tantrum free, an impossibility) and also, the fact that viruses can really impact your mood (I feel we focus so much on the physical impact of flu etc, but rarely speak of the emotional) so, yes, it’s probably all of that. Plus! If you subscribe to the stars, we are, apparently in Mercury.
But, I also think a new year, vastly approaching, as if we’re rocks tumbling down a hill, has something to do with it. I’ve spoken before about how, as we get older, we are collecting hard-worn experiences, and the impact that has on our outlook. What will next year hold? What have we had to face this past year? That’s a lot to carry.
Then there’s the news, this ever-rolling feed of tragedy, viewed from a device that’s been designed for our addiction. We can’t look away. Sometimes, we shouldn’t look away. Also, with each headline, often (if you’re perpetually online like me) comes with someone’s opinion, anger, or emotion. This month alone, on multiple different occasions, I’ve been told that “we” don’t have humanity any more, that it’s completely and utterly lost. So yes, feeling flat, on flat, on flat, is probably expected, for everyone.
It’s hard to feel hopeful.
I can’t fix that with a silly little statement that tells you, just to “be.” But (god how many buts in this newsletter) at the same time, when I set down to write this newsletter it was all to do with my flatness. And I realised something: I didn’t, in that moment, or this one, feel flat. There’s the sting of Co-Op salt and vinegar crisps on my tongue, and I’ve lit cheap cinnamon tealights across the house. I had a hot Ribena, and it reminded me both of my childhood and a dear friend of mine. Each morning I wake up under feathers, I feel the weight of them, and my husband’s arm holding me in place. It’s these little things, and my concerted effort to notice them, that has me feeling (whisper it) 3D… but only in passing moments.
I’m not allowing myself to look too far into the future. There’s too much to fret about. But I am also not forcing conceited moments of joy, in an attempt to pull the happiness of the past into my present. Instead, I’m taking each moment I’m served, and trying, to find something nice within it. That includes the crisps, and candles, but also tiny exchanges with strangers I meet: joking in Pret about my Diet Coke addiction, complimenting the woman in WH Smith on her eye make-up. Even, completely fooling myself into thinking an ex-Eastender was checking me out at a party. Going home and telling people that he did. Whatever works! I’m just collecting the joy found in slivers, adding them all up, and finding at the end of the day, they’ve become something whole.
What do you think? How are you finding this time of year? What’s brought you joy, what’s made you feel sad? Have you developed any coping mechanisms? Let me know, and, as always, I’m sending love.
*By the way, this by
on how Elf on the Shelf has become another pressure for mothers to face made me smile so, so much.It’s Christmas and LOOK Substack has a gift subscription button, I don’t really know what this means, but why don’t you click on it and see!