There are certain things we can choose to ignore if it brings us discomfort. For example, if someone feels distressed from seeing a spider, or an Anne Hathaway film, they can do their best to avoid situations in which an arachnid, or Ms Hathaway, will appear. (Yes, I know she was great in Les Mis, but please leave me alone.)
Other things, like Christmas, are not so easily avoided. Lately, I’m struck by how loud the festive season is. Has Santa always been so annoyingly cheerful? Is it normal for every brand to release an overly sentimental and expensive-looking ad? And is tinsel always so… garish?
Don’t get me wrong, I am no Grinch - I’ve always been a huge Crimbo fan. This is coming from someone who usually adores all things ho ho ho, fa la la, pa ruppa pum pum. I typically find myself singing carols throughout the year and planning presents in the middle of June. Each dog in my family receives a carefully wrapped chew toy and you better believe they’ll be wearing the elf ears I got them (sorry Olive, I know you hate them, mate).
But this year is different.
This is the first time I’m spending Christmas away from home.
In February I moved from Australia to the UK and until now, haven’t felt much homesickness. I miss my family and friends deeply of course, but the knowledge that my visa has a two-year limit always kept me from feeling too lonely. I’ll be back in no time! Two years is a blip in the scheme of things! I’ve gone that long from seeing friends before and when we reunited, it was as if no time had passed! I’m so lucky to be travelling!
But as soon as December struck, things started to feel different. Those phrases started feeling like a bandaid applied to a neck wound while it’s still resting on the guillotine. It’s really surprised me how much I’m missing home (and how dramatic my metaphors have gotten).
I’m lucky to even have a family to miss and to have a few quid to spend on a funny Rudolph jumper. I know this. But even so, there’s a specific pang of sadness that is difficult to shake.
It feels silly, and slightly shameful, to feel this way when at this time of year. It’s not news that many experience during this time of year, and vulnerable groups see a spike in . I’m lucky to even have a family to miss and to have a few quid to spend on a funny Rudolph jumper. I know this. But even so, there’s a specific pang of sadness that is difficult to shake.
I’ve spent most of my adolescence and adulthood managing chronic depression, so it’s really no surprise that I’m suddenly in a relapse of sorts. Holiday marketing is essentially throwing images of happy, relaxed families directly into your eyeballs for about two months — shopfronts started putting out their Halloween and Christmas decorations at the same time in a confusing mash-up of spookiness and joy. The sheer everywhere-ness of this shiny, perfect glee when you feel empty and down is quite striking.
So how am I managing this? The answer is boring, but simple: human connection.
It can be a small as a chat with a customer at my day job, or even a ‘thank you!’ to a smiling bus driver, or as profound as realising you can truly be yourself with someone (that shift from acquaintance to friend… yay!).
As I’m officially out of my 20s, I’m learning that quality over quantity is what makes me feel loved and accepted within friendships. Having one or two really solid mates to laugh with beats feeling alone in a crowd any day.
This connection doesn’t fall into your lap - it requires vulnerability, openness, and tackling the same fear of rejection that arises from asking a stranger out on a date. I’ve been so lucky to meet people who have reached out to invite me to social events or just let me know that they are there.
So how am I managing this? The answer is boring, but simple: human connection.
Despite the awfulness in this world, I truly believe that the majority of humans are fundamentally good. If you’re feeling loved and joyous this season, maybe reach out to someone who might not be feeling so merry. Seeing fundraisers for homeless shelters and overflowing gift baskets for struggling families reminds me that we are all in this together. Having an old friend message ‘I love you’ reminds me that I’m never really alone.
And despite this endless grey sleet that surrounds my new city, those reminders give me a gentle, lasting warmth.
