Last Christmas, I Gave You My Heart

I love Christmas.  I love the whole story of the baby Jesus being born and the three kings sensing his arrival and following a star to his manger.  I love the entire idea of a holiday where we celebrate this story of our savior being born.  I try to keep all of that wrapped up in my mind as the month approaches the day.  It's all about the baby Jesus, it's all about the miracle, I keep telling myself.  I hold on tight as I go out and brave the season but every year, ev....ery frick...in' year! I wake up and feel like absolute shite in the final stretch.  I'm lethargic, I experience deep Boz Scaggs type lows.  I consider every freaking sad event that has happened in my life.  I regret I did not love my mother more.  I realize what a bad friend I am to nearly everyone. A virtual reel of dismal incidents that loop in my imagination.  Allllll the sad shit that I never want to think of, all there. Santa drops the whole bag right on my head for the holidays.  And then, I start to really dread what should be a lovely Holy Day.  Then out of character I resent all the beautiful family shots of fun and joy that flood the media. Elaborate tables being set with fine china, trips to exotic places, love and laughter being felt.  People looking perfect and well dressed, put together and not crying.  Hey, I'm having good times too, I mean, the quiet, low-key type that an introvert like me allows herself on these occasions. I'm not envious. I just don't want to see it, be around it, or have anything to do with it.

Gosh, when did this happen to me?  Oh right.  I've always been this way.  But I strive to crack the code and break free, stay happy throughout one entire season.  This year, I'm claiming Depressmas, the true thinking man's reaction to a complex holiday.  I know It's not entirely lost.  Sure if you have children or have close family nearby then you probably hit those big Yuletide highs.  Maybe you're a real can-do type person, super motivated so it's just another chance to fill up your awesome card.  But for some of us, it's a real mixed sack of emotions and melancholy that packs a powerful punch to the gut.

All I know is that chocolate and cookies are not good substitutes for self love but in a pinch, I wouldn't kick grass fed beef Chorizo out of bed!  My sister and I both had a vision of my mom's homemade supper dish from way back when with stewed ground hamburger, chile and potatoes.  A comfort dish with a sauce to sop up with warm torts. Simple yet entirely to die for.  Beef Chorizo packs more flavor power but it went great with Yukon potatoes. 

Depressmas is my George Costanza invention to help me make light of either my holiday impotence or my righteous unwillingness to accept this concocted depiction of seasonal bliss.