Christmas Again?

This year I’m going to really try and get into the Christmas spirit.

My last few Christmases left a lot to be desired when it came to my holiday spirit moods. I guess I don’t get the same vibes as I used to when they start advertising Christmas sales in October.

I find setting up Christmas decorations to be a waste of time. No one comes to our house during the holidays — the Christmas Celebration Cup has long been passed to my son and daughter-in-law and grandkids. Christmas carols make my eyes roll, especially after I hear “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” for the 33rd time. 

I don’t bake for the holidays because it would be me eating all the cookies, and I already feel like a Teletubby. I don’t have the money to buy presents for everyone I’d like to, having resorted to giving money to teens who have no idea what they want, or flamingos as a joke to a close friend who used to collect them.

What has happened to me?

Why has Ebeneezer Scrooge come out so early this year?

I could blame it on losing my son not long after the holidays, or my dog who we are going to put to sleep today, or yet another friend diagnosed with cancer. Trying not to be paranoid about “I’m next” is almost a full time struggle. 

Understand — I do love the meaning of Christmas. Of giving, of sharing, of special moments with those you love. But I do that 365 days a year, so in that respect Christmas is no different than, say, October 24th.

I’m thinking a lot of it has to do with age. I purposely avoid movies that happily rip your heart out at the end, sad songs, and commercials for the ASPCA. I don’t want to bawl my eyes out over sentimentality I can’t control. For in these situations, bawling is not cathartic. It’s painful. It’s like that adage of keeping the door locked so the flood waters don’t come in and wash you away.

Good feelings can be overwhelming just like bad ones. Sometimes the happier I get the sadder I get. 

That has to do with getting older. Fewer Christmases ahead than behind, and all that.

So this year I’m going to try and step back into the Christmas spirit one shoe at a time. Try not to overdo it in any one direction. I still have grandkids to make me smile, along with good friends, good food (though not too much as in past years), and Christmas traditions that still hang true. I can always make cookies for friends and send out Christmas cards to all. I will avoid Christmas movies that have a well loved pet or human die or songs of lost love.

Common sense in this day and age where tragedy hovers all around.

Do any of you go through this ying yang of holiday cheer?

If so, I feel for you.

Gettin’ Jiggy Wit My Emotions

Human beings are nothing but emotional barometers. Hot one day, cold the next. And I don’t just mean menopause.

I have always been an emotional person. An overly emotional person. I love till it hurts. I resent even though I shouldn’t. I am jealous over things that I have nothing to do with. I listen to my favorite music and am in heaven. Yet the next minute I drive home from work .shouting “Fuuuccckkkk aaaallll of yooooouuuu!!” out the window.

As I get older the emotions flash way up and way down. And I have to say I don’t care for it.

Yes, there are Meds. There is meditation and fresh air walks  and alcohol and chamomile tea and church. There are many ways to deal with that over-active amygdala. But that doesn’t stop the knee-jerk reactions to everything from too-salty food to pink sunsets. Everything bothers me. Everything thrills me. Thoughts and dreams and desires flood my brain at lightning speed, confusing me with their urgency. Hence, I want to edit, write, read, sew, watch movies, go for walks, throw the ball for the dogs, cook, sulk, scream, and yes, even clean.

One thing I know. I really am at the end of my working career. Instead of going out in a career choice blaze of glory, I’m going out as a fill-in-the-spreadsheet-blank kinda girl. The writing career I wanted will have to fill my days of retirement, for there’s nothing really left at my job. All that’s left of my waning career is the sad click of the keyboard as I fill in number after number after number.

See what I mean? That’s the out-of-control amygdala babbling away. For I really don’t mind my job. And my personal life is so full of family and grandbabies and oatmeal raisin cookies and evening walks that I’m not really that strung out.

But these days I find myself alot more reactionary. I “hate” a lot more people, places, and things. Something I never did in my youth. I also “love” a lot more things than I did when I was 20 or 30. Not only the obvious things like children and husbands and friends and homemade spaghetti, but smooth jazz and classical music, taking pictures, my art blog, Game of Thrones, corn fields, and even…dare I say it…country music.

I wish my highs could stay longer than my lows. That my outlook on myself and the world would lighten up. I hate myself for wasting precious emotions and energy on things I can do nothing about. After all, my future is shorter than my past. And that very thought saddens me.

See what I mean?

Life is all about finding balance. About letting the good into your life. And when the bad comes along, oh well. That’s life. Not holding onto to jealousies and grudges and bad memories. There’s nothing you can do to change anything in the past, and the future is uncertain. So just get jiggy wit it. All of it.

I just wish I wasn’t so moody about getting jiggy……..