This is a rough time of year for many of us, especially if we have experienced deprivation or loss in our lives.
There is something about the stark contrast between all those “Merry Merry Happy Happy” images, and that which we feel inside. Somehow all those picture-perfect reminders of joy and harmony and kindness can bring all our disappointment or bereavement or grief into sharp focus, much more so than at other times of the year. Sometimes it makes us feel hopelessly inadequate for not having lives as fabulous as those on the images or social media posts.
In Iceland, where I live, Christmas is all about traditions. Things are pretty fixed around here. People and families tend to do the same things every year. It’s comforting, and in most cases, quite lovely.
Many times I have been asked, “What was Christmas like for you when you were growing up?” by someone here in Iceland. Inherent in the question is the assumption that, like for most Icelanders, things were pretty much the same each Christmas: the same routines on Christmas Eve, the same food for Christmas dinner, the same people, the same parties for the extended family. Sure, with minor variations, but generally the same—because that’s how people like it.
I’m always kind of silenced when I get that question because my Christmases were so diverse. There was no real tradition. My happiest memories of Christmas were of being at my grandparents’ house as a little girl, but that was only once or twice. After that there were many different countries, many different houses, many different people. On two occasions I spent Christmas with folks I had only just met: once with the family of a roommate in Canada; another time with a friend’s co-workers in England. I have also spent Christmas alone on two occasions, once while five months’ pregnant. (This was before I moved back to Iceland, mind.) Here in Iceland it is pretty much taboo to spend Christmas alone. The general sentiment is that no one should be alone on Christmas Eve (which is when we celebrate)—if you don’t have a family of your own you are usually invited to spend it with your parents, or the family of a sibling.
Those two Christmases I spent alone were by no means the worst I have spent—not by a long shot. You will probably agree that it can be much worse being lonely with people, than without. I was not lonely in the least those two Christmas Eves I spent on my own, but I was often lonely when I spent them with my mother and stepfather in Canada, as an example.
I used to get depressed at this time of year, seeing all those supposed happy families that reminded me so much of my own deprivation. That has now changed because I have changed. When I took responsibility for my own healing and stopped expecting others to do things they had no intention of doing or desire to do, my attitudes and outlook changed. Really, I pared things down to having no expectations whatsoever for Christmas, or of the people around me. Instead, I began to show up for myself. I did not wait for others to give me the gifts I wanted—I got them for myself. I didn’t expect others to be there for me on, say, my birthday (which is the day before Christmas Eve and is, for me, always inextricably tied up with the season)—instead I made a point of doing something nice for myself. I also made sure to eliminate two nasty enemies from my life (and mind): resentment and self-pity. Those two are guaranteed to send me plummeting into gloominess faster than a skydive without a parachute.
This is not to promote toxic positivity: I know there are things that can sting, or even hurt deeply, and those feelings need to be acknowledged and worked through. But if that happened I called a friend—someone I trusted—and talked it through, rather than wallowing in “poor-me” thinking.
Nowadays Christmas is usually pretty easy and filled with delight. We have traditions in our family, but they are not rigid. I don’t let societal pressure get to me, either—and believe me, here in Iceland there is plenty of that. Nope, if I don’t feel like baking five varieties of cookies, or scrubbing the entire apartment, or going to ten concerts, or making my own advent wreath, or participating in the Christmas Book Flood, or whatever—I just don’t do it. 🤷♀️
Last but not least, I make sure I do not abandon myself. For me, the hardest thing about Christmas in the past was in the feeling of abandonment I experienced both because of people who were absent, but even more because of those who were physically present, but emotionally absent. Now I show up for myself, and as long as I do that, all is well.
Do you celebrate Christmas? If so, is this a good, or a difficult, time for you? Let me know in the comments. 🥰
Curious about Icelandic Christmas traditions? You might be interested in my book, available as hard cover, paperback, ebook or audiobook:
(Apologies if you now have that damn Taylor Swift song stuck in your head … like 90% of the Western world I’m going through a Swiftie phase 😆.)
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The only holiday that wasn't a massive battle growing up was Halloween. It took a long time to learn how to get through major holidays without panic, depression, fear, nightmares, etc.
These days, I mostly ignore holidays and, in return, they ignore me. For decades, I either worked double shifts or, later when I got a little stronger, spent them with close friends, doing relaxing things. Eating favourite foods, reading in front of a fireplace, watching Pink Panther movies, stuff like that. Now, I see them as an excellent day to get some introvert recharging time in.
I do have a tree this year, for the first time as an adult, but I put up a small tree because I didn't want to deprive my cat of the opportunity to destroy a tree. She's pretty much ignoring it.
Peace and strength to those who need it.
Some churches here are doing "dark night" services, often on the solstice, for those suffering loss or generally having a hard time with the Holly Jolly. Even if I am doing OK, I still go as a show of support for others. Since I retired, I try to use Advent to take stock of how I can be more helpful to others in the coming year and to generally be more outward looking. It helps.