I love Christmas. It’s always been my favourite time of year and has been since we had children. I’ve usually had a busy year and look forward to some time off (usually try to get as much as possible), catching up with friends and family and eating and drinking and generally relaxing.
When the children were younger I was always excited for Christmas morning and the joy of watching them both tear through gifts and stockings with glee and then enjoying far too much food. As they’ve got older that magic has started to dim but we’ve always had a good time.
I’ve never put pressure onto anyone that it must be perfect or that you mustn’t ruin Christmas, I just want an easy life with no stresses. Christmas can be stressful but we do whatever we can to make it easy. If that means I buy frozen roast potatoes for example then so be it.
This year, Christmas 2020 is proving to be a challenge. One where I’m struggling to find my personal Christmas spirit. The joy, excitement, “the sparkle”… is nowhere to be found. Yet.
What with Covid restrictions stopping having friends round, packed shops and streets with Christmas decorations and lights are out of bounds for someone supposed to be shielding.
This and the overwhelming dread of what my upcoming scans will find mean my mind and my body just isn’t feeling Christmassy.
I don’t even have holiday from work to look forward to. I’ve been off work sick since September and have done nothing but “have a break from work” since then. If anything I want to get back to work for some normality.
Its not helping either that since my diagnosis I’ve stopped drinking alcohol completely. Not through any medical advice, I’ve just not fancied it. This time of year there would normally be plenty of pub lunches, a few beers and an occasional whisky.
We went to a garden centre (yes I’m supposed to be shielding but this was a tradition!) at the weekend to buy the annual Christmas baubles for the girls and usually this would be the first time I’d feel a bit of seasonal excitement. I just felt sad.
Back in September I’d convinced myself I wasn’t going to see Christmas this year. There in the garden centre I felt sad thinking what if it’s my last Christmas. It took a lot to hold it together and not burst into tears.
I took the dogs out for a walk last night just around the local streets and passing dozens of houses with an array of brightly lit Christmas lights, projections and decorations. Something that would usually get me “in the spirit”. But there was nothing. I got home and felt so sad, and a bit sorry for myself. When I went to bed I broke down in tears as, all to frequently these days, it all got to much.
Tomorrow is Rhian’s 25th birthday and usually marks the start of us really preparing for Christmas. We’ll put our tree and decorations up at the weekend.
We have a beautiful fake tree that we bought the year Rhian was born (1995) and it still looks great when decorated and this will be it’s 26th year.
I’ll watch as Katie takes the lead in decorating and ensuring perfect bauble placement. We’ll probably watch some cheesy Christmas films and I just hope that somewhere, deep down I can start to look forward to and enjoy Christmas.
I don’t want it to be perfect. I just want to enjoy Christmas. I need to embrace it with both hands and try and stop worrying. Difficult, I know but if not for me then at least for everyone around me.
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