Polly Vernon
Let me tell you about the ways I fail at Christmas. 1) I can’t wrap. I am s*** at it. Toddlers with zero motor skills wrap better than me. Dogs wrap better than me. 2) I don’t do Duty. I don’t: send cards, call any relatives other than the ones I really like, pretend my boyfriend had anything to do with the purchasing and presenting of ‘joint’ gifts (because he didn’t). But most of all: 3) I fail at Christmas because I don’t feel as happy as I think I should. Through these 10 or so days, as I make my way from dos to the pub on Christmas Eve to the godkids’ on Christmas Day to the walks to the hungover brunches to whatever the shag I end up doing this New Year’s Eve (possibly nothing)… As I do that, I often feel a lot of things that aren’t ‘happy’. They’re more like: anxious (is everyone secretly underwhelmed by my presents? By my presence? Why didn’t I have children, even though I never wanted children, but Christmas is a time for children, so am I a fraud for not having children?). I feel grumpy, because I’m surrounded by these damned people I love but God! They’re annoying! Then I go off on my own… and I feel lonely. I feel guilty! The Ghosts of Guilt Past grab me by the gut on those stagnant days between Christmas and New Year, when salesshopping feels like an obligation, but the amount of stuff you’ve already acquired is making you feel sick. I miss work, because at least I know what’s what when I’m working – and then I feel like a loser for missing work. And I feel sad. I think about the year, and the year before – ’cos that’s what Christmas is, right? A point of reference on the past, as much as anything else – and I think about the people who’ve gone, one way or another, and the ones who act like they’re still here, but aren’t, not really… And, yeah. I feel sad.
I don’t think I’m rare. The bar on Christmas is so damned high! For gifts, for happiness, for fun, for f***’s sake! Who couldn’t fail to reach it? We fling romantic notions of family around, when we know it’s not that simple; when death, divorce and abstract weirdness define so many of our families. And we say ‘Happy Christmas’, over and over, like ‘happy’ is the only emotion allowed. But it isn’t. If you’re feeling those other things – those dark, spiky, uncomfortable, unhappy things – it’s fine. It really is. Quite apart from anything else: I am feeling them too.