I’m feel I’m out my depth again.
Treading water knowing the big waves are heading my way.
I get like this each year.
Watching everyone else preparing and celebrating the season. But no matter how hard I try to get caught up in their revelries, it’s just out of reach, like it’s brushing past my fingertips but I just can’t grab hold.
I’ve started writing lists again. Of all the things I need to cross off before the big day comes.
Order prescriptions, write cards, buy gifts and get them wrapped. I realise how far behind I am on being ready and it just intensifies the feeling.
My mind floods with memories of the Christmases gone by.
Of who’s missing at the table. How many seasonal celebrations I missed when the kids were growing up because of the crappy hours I’d work in my shop. Of the missed nativities and parties. Of visits to see Santa.
I think of how beautiful I’d try to make the shop window for all the village to enjoy. And now when I drive past how sad and neglected it looks.
I feel like its all been a waste as I have nothing to show for that time except old photos and fading memories.
But no matter how I want those around me to enjoy and celebrate the season. Inside I just want to cry. Curl up in a ball and hide under the duvet until it’s all gone away.
My kids have asked to spend Christmas with the family.
I realise that my anxieties have stopped them from enjoying the Christmases they really deserve. I have been selfish.
It was easy to hide behind the pandemic why I didn’t want to join in. But now I see it for what it is in the bare light of day. My mental health just cannot cope
I add guilt to the emotions that I carry this season.
Why can’t it all just disappear? Why cant I wake in the new year and find I slept through?