At the same time every year, like clockwork, Mariah Carey is defrosted and the world braces itself for another edition of Whamageddon.
And I step onto my soapbox to declare how much I loathe the festive season. I’ve tried not to, believe me.
Focusing on family and friends, hoping it will spark some joy.
I’ve endured Christmas movies so syrupy they could put me into a coma (okay, don’t tell anyone but I actually love Serendipity 2001 and The Holiday 2018).
I’ve spent too many hours scrolling Pinterest looking for eco-friendly, waste-free decorating tips (spoiler alert: I choose too many insect-infested twigs).
And yet, no matter how loudly I pretend to enjoy carols, I make the Grinch look relaxed and easygoing.
Christmas doesn’t feel like it’s about giving anymore; it’s about taking. Taking the last parking spot, taking someone’s patience in the checkout line, and taking the goodwill out of the “season”.
About this time every year, I wish that I had planned better and was spending December on a deserted island.
What I want for Christmas isn’t on sale, in stock or available online for next-day delivery.
All I want is for people to stop and think of others for a moment.
This year, I am determined to do better. I am going to try to go with the chaos, connect and listen.
Maybe, just maybe, I might even enjoy it.
[On a serious note, it is not unusual for people to experience stress, depression and anxiety during the holiday season. Many are doing it tough.
As always, please remember that a little care goes a long way. And if you can afford to donate to a Christmas appeal, that would be lovely.
Take care out there!]
