Content Warning: Once again, I talk about depression and mental health and all that. If that’s not your jam, you may prefer to read this half-assed post I once made about happy movies. I’ll also throw in some unrelated photos of happy dogs, so feel free to ignore my words and scroll through those instead.

Once November 3rd arrives, I tend to shift into “Holiday Goblin Mode.” Halloween and Dia de los Muertos have passed, so I feel comfortable shifting my focus to the upcoming holidays: Thanksgiving and Christmas. In the past, my thoughts were usually consumed with ensuring that every person I loved had a present that adequately expressed my love for them (like, would they feel less loved if they received homemade cookies instead of an expensive board game)? However, this year is a little different.

This year, my biggest concern is: how do I get through Christmas Day without crying?

I’ve been a Single Pringle for a long time now, despite my intense, borderline-fanatical love for romantic Hallmark movies (or maybe because of them), which usually means that my holidays are spent with my immediate family. Over the years, my family has shrunk dramatically. All of my grandparents, including my Yiayia, have since passed away, and my connection to my late mother’s family grows weaker with each year. My dad’s side of the family is nice enough, although many of my cousins are married with children and are more focused on spending time with their growing families than with their depressed cousin.

My last few Christmases have been strange, ranging from “not-bad” to “downright awful.” Without going into too many details, what I remember most from those days is the feeling of being both anxious and disappointed. Much of it is my own fault, or my brain’s fault, because it loves to ruminate, wallow in self-pity, and rot in depression even as I face the many wonderful things in my life. For instance, in December 2023, I had a new puppy, who has become one of the greatest sources of joy in my life. I remember petting her velvet-soft ears and sobbing over my other dog, Rosie, who had tragically passed away a few months earlier.

Last year was particularly rough. Despite being surrounded by the beauty of Amsterdam, due to circumstances beyond my control, Christmas Day was a tense and miserable affair that left me sobbing in the middle of the Negen Straatjes. My sister tried to make it better by suggesting we walk to the infamous Red-Light District for sightseeing purposes, because what else were we supposed to do with the day? While we didn’t engage in any of the seedier entertainment opportunities the city provided, I do remember Bean’s blood sugar dropping rapidly and having to buy her a lollipop shaped like a boob so that her hands would stop shaking. For some reason, Bean didn’t want to suck on a tatty-shaped lollipop in public, so we dipped into a still-open, smoke-saturated bar that miraculously had orange juice, and that was our day. Merry Christmas to us.

(The food was good, though)

Long-time readers (aka my one friend who has been following this blog since its inception) may notice that this blog bears some striking similarities to one I penned in 2021 titled “A Blue Christmas.” In that blog, I mentioned reading “The Finnish Way,” by Katja Pantzar, which extolls the benefits of Winter Swimming, a practice that could be summarized as a “cold plunge followed by a sauna.” I also mentioned reading dumb fanfiction to cheer myself up. Since then, I’ve engaged in both of these activities – I’ve bathed in cold water and read so much eye-melting garbage I’m sure I’ve lost some frontal lobe activity. If I put my mind to it, I can think of a few ways to stave off the blues this year, although I have to be honest and admit that since my Yiayia passed away, I haven’t been doing well. I’m grateful for the support I’ve received from family, friends, and yes, the boku amounts of medication I take for my mental health, but it’s been a really hard few months, and only now, after weeks of therapy and updating my medicine, have I begun to feel like myself again.

I’ve taken steps to try to improve my mental health, and I’m aware that the holidays can be a slippery mental slope. I’m going to do what I can to ensure my own mood is steady when Christmas Day rolls around, but there’s still something else that has me concerned: literally everything not in my control.

You may be thinking at this point, “You shouldn’t worry over things you can’t control.” I’ve been told this statement more times than I can count, and I even repeated it a few times to other people when I didn’t know what else to say. But the truth is, it’s a useless statement, because how else should someone react to negative circumstances beyond their control? The 3rd-class passengers on the Titanic had no control over it hitting the iceberg, but I’d say they had every right to be worried about the aftermath. The same goes for anyone in a difficult position. Obviously, we can’t control other people or acts of God, but at the very least, we should do a little preparation. I can’t predict when the next big Earthquake will take place, but I can buy an Earthquake kit and read up on what to do when one happens (protect your head and neck, friends).

It’s probably not fair for me to compare a bad Christmas to the Titanic or the 1989 Earthquake, but when I’m facing an unknown, I like to check that I have enough lifeboats on board in case things go sideways. That means I have to remember that I have more power than I think, just like you do, and there are some things within my control. I can try to make the next few weeks a cheerful experience for myself, and that’s what I want to do. In honor of those feelings, I present to you my holiday “earthquake” kit. Or in other words, the promises and intentions that I’ll set for myself to make the coming weeks more positive.

The List of What I Want to Do This Christmas (So I’m Not Afraid When the Big Day Arrives):

1. I want to collect stories from my friends about their Christmas experiences, publish them on this blog, and then hopefully, arrange those stories into a book.
2. I want to complete at least one tedious craft that gives me a decorative holiday heirloom I can always carry with me.
3. I want to make homemade treats for my neighbors so they continue to tolerate my dogs’ rude barking for another year. But obviously, only good homemade treats, because no one wants my weird-smelling candles or drain-clogging bath salts.
4. I would like to take holiday portraits of my dogs with Santa, because pet shelters host those events as fundraisers, and it’s a cute and worthy cause.
5. I want to mail holiday cards to every friend that I can think of because receiving those cards feels wonderful.
6. I want to spend quality time with my “Audrie,” which for those of you who are not part of my family, is a term that we use to describe a longtime/childhood bestfriend. I’m lucky enough to have a few people in my life who I would consider “Audries” so it’s important to me that I let them know how grateful I am to have them in my life.
7. I would like to attend one group event that’s maybe a little outside my comfort zone, because I know few people where I live, and it would be nice to find others with common interests.
8. I want to attend some kind of light festival, because holiday lights are the best part of the holidays.
9. I want to continue my “12 Days of Christmas” campaign because Christmastide can and should be a thing.
10. I want to engage in at least one cultural event, because learning about how other cultures approach winter holidays is one of my favorite things to do.

Now, some of you may also be wondering if the thought of Christmas Day gives me so much anxiety, why don’t I just avoid it all? Well, for one, that’s a lot like denying myself the opportunity to feel happiness because I might feel sadness, which is wild. And two, I like holidays. Like, a lot. It’s kind of my thing. Third, avoiding Christmas is like avoiding sunlight. You can try, but you’re going to have to make some weird sacrifices to do so.

(I do feel like this is a good moment to mention that once I worked with a very kind Jehovah’s Witness, whose approach to the holidays was, “don’t celebrate them, but since you have the day off, you might as well get together with the people you like.” It seemed like a good outlook.)

If anything I’ve written here resonates with you, especially the idea of “holiday intentions” or just holiday anxiety, go ahead and let it out. I’d love to hear more about what you plan to do to make the remainder of the year a happy one, or if you want to talk about the tough feelings holidays can bring up, I’m also here.