Melancholy: 1. Sadness or depression of the spirits; gloom.
2. Pensive reflection or contemplation.
A few disclaimers are in order before I begin:
1) I am grateful for all I have.
2) I should be grateful for all I have, because I have a lot--a loving partner, kids I adore, a great family and friends, good health, a comfortable home....all in all, a good life.
3) I don't need to be "fixed". And yes, I do know of many cures for this, whatever it is.
4) It's the "fault" of no one.
5) It's not my intention to be a "downer". If you're afraid of that, stop reading now.
I think I'm writing this to maybe make some sense of it all, but I'm also putting it on my blog with the hope that if you feel the same way, you will know you're not alone.
It's the holiday season. People are shopping, rushing from this event to that one, doing good deeds, and seem to be really enjoying all that this season has to offer, be it Diwali, Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanza, or the Winter Solstice. I feel like I'm watching this all from the outside; occasionally I come in from the cold, but most of the time I'm an observer.
Watching it all, I feel melancholy.
I remember Christmas as a kid, and appreciate all my parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts, and uncles did to ensure the magic of the holiday completely covered the house. We weren't wealthy, but the presents always spilled out from under the tree and across the carpet. There were huge gatherings of family, and as the youngest of 7, I LOVED it. LOVED all the relatives, the craziness, the chaos. When I got married and moved away, I really missed the noise and the multitudes. Soon, I had kids of my own, and addition to the December holidays, we also celebrated their December birthdays. I can't clearly recall the years Erika and Peter were kids; the holiday season was just a blur of presents, cakes, cookies, slumber parties, and more presents.
Thanksgiving is over--it was a lot of fun this year, to be with friends and family, to be well-fed and entertained. We've had Cookie Weekend, and the house was so very full of everything for two days, and yet something, namely Erika, was missing. In the midst of the baking, the laughing, the presents, I felt her absence. We Skyped with her (thank goodness for modern technology), but it's not the same as having her here.
The house is pretty quiet these days. I know if there was non-stop activity, as in days of yore, I would not have all this time to think, and to dwell. But I do have the time, and I do dwell. I think of my dad, my grandparents, my brother--all are gone. I think of my very good friend who died less than 2 years ago. I miss them all so much. I carry them all in my heart, but during this season, I ache. I cry, and I know it's OK to do that, but sometimes it really doesn't help.
I miss family and friends who are still on this earth, but who are so far away. I remember holidays past; moments spent with them, and while I ache again, I also am thankful for the times we had together, and the laughter we shared.
I have flunked "Black Friday 101"--those big-ticket items everyone on my list is supposed to get? Sorry. Those baubles that will make me pre-orgasmic? Skip them. Maybe it's my age, but a dinner with friends or a box of toy penguins? Makes me smile every time. Yet I still feel pressure to conform to what the media tells me is important at this time of the year--flat screen televisions, smart phones, and Furbies. I feel inadequate, weird, and sad.
But you know what? I may be feeling melancholy now, but I will be just as sad when the holidays are over. Go figure. I hate to take down the tree, turn off the outdoor lights, put all the ornaments away. I like the way the trees look with the lights hanging on them. I like to look over at the tree and see the ornament from my childhood, to see the paper hat that Peter made, to see the light sparkling off Erika's "disco ball". I love to listen to Christmas music. I love to see people wearing Santa hats, and being goofy.
Maybe that's what it means to be an adult during the holiday season--it means you're going to have moments of happiness, and moments of emptiness. You're going to feel like you're on the outside looking in at everyone else having a good time, and sometimes you're going to feel very content and grateful for the good time you're having with friends and family. Some things are going to trigger a memory that brings tears to your eyes, and some are going to lift your spirits. Some days you will just need to get through, and on some days, your spirits will soar.
My advice--to me and to you? Be aware. Savor the good times, no matter how short they may be. For those will be the memories you will cherish in the years to come. It's OK to laugh, and it's OK to cry, and it's really OK to flunk consumerism. Give of yourself, even if you can only spare a little bit.
If you need a hug, I'm here. I'll give you one, because I just might need one too.
'Tis the season.
A few disclaimers are in order before I begin:
1) I am grateful for all I have.
2) I should be grateful for all I have, because I have a lot--a loving partner, kids I adore, a great family and friends, good health, a comfortable home....all in all, a good life.
3) I don't need to be "fixed". And yes, I do know of many cures for this, whatever it is.
4) It's the "fault" of no one.
5) It's not my intention to be a "downer". If you're afraid of that, stop reading now.
I think I'm writing this to maybe make some sense of it all, but I'm also putting it on my blog with the hope that if you feel the same way, you will know you're not alone.
It's the holiday season. People are shopping, rushing from this event to that one, doing good deeds, and seem to be really enjoying all that this season has to offer, be it Diwali, Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanza, or the Winter Solstice. I feel like I'm watching this all from the outside; occasionally I come in from the cold, but most of the time I'm an observer.
Watching it all, I feel melancholy.
I remember Christmas as a kid, and appreciate all my parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts, and uncles did to ensure the magic of the holiday completely covered the house. We weren't wealthy, but the presents always spilled out from under the tree and across the carpet. There were huge gatherings of family, and as the youngest of 7, I LOVED it. LOVED all the relatives, the craziness, the chaos. When I got married and moved away, I really missed the noise and the multitudes. Soon, I had kids of my own, and addition to the December holidays, we also celebrated their December birthdays. I can't clearly recall the years Erika and Peter were kids; the holiday season was just a blur of presents, cakes, cookies, slumber parties, and more presents.
Thanksgiving is over--it was a lot of fun this year, to be with friends and family, to be well-fed and entertained. We've had Cookie Weekend, and the house was so very full of everything for two days, and yet something, namely Erika, was missing. In the midst of the baking, the laughing, the presents, I felt her absence. We Skyped with her (thank goodness for modern technology), but it's not the same as having her here.
The house is pretty quiet these days. I know if there was non-stop activity, as in days of yore, I would not have all this time to think, and to dwell. But I do have the time, and I do dwell. I think of my dad, my grandparents, my brother--all are gone. I think of my very good friend who died less than 2 years ago. I miss them all so much. I carry them all in my heart, but during this season, I ache. I cry, and I know it's OK to do that, but sometimes it really doesn't help.
I miss family and friends who are still on this earth, but who are so far away. I remember holidays past; moments spent with them, and while I ache again, I also am thankful for the times we had together, and the laughter we shared.
I have flunked "Black Friday 101"--those big-ticket items everyone on my list is supposed to get? Sorry. Those baubles that will make me pre-orgasmic? Skip them. Maybe it's my age, but a dinner with friends or a box of toy penguins? Makes me smile every time. Yet I still feel pressure to conform to what the media tells me is important at this time of the year--flat screen televisions, smart phones, and Furbies. I feel inadequate, weird, and sad.
But you know what? I may be feeling melancholy now, but I will be just as sad when the holidays are over. Go figure. I hate to take down the tree, turn off the outdoor lights, put all the ornaments away. I like the way the trees look with the lights hanging on them. I like to look over at the tree and see the ornament from my childhood, to see the paper hat that Peter made, to see the light sparkling off Erika's "disco ball". I love to listen to Christmas music. I love to see people wearing Santa hats, and being goofy.
Maybe that's what it means to be an adult during the holiday season--it means you're going to have moments of happiness, and moments of emptiness. You're going to feel like you're on the outside looking in at everyone else having a good time, and sometimes you're going to feel very content and grateful for the good time you're having with friends and family. Some things are going to trigger a memory that brings tears to your eyes, and some are going to lift your spirits. Some days you will just need to get through, and on some days, your spirits will soar.
My advice--to me and to you? Be aware. Savor the good times, no matter how short they may be. For those will be the memories you will cherish in the years to come. It's OK to laugh, and it's OK to cry, and it's really OK to flunk consumerism. Give of yourself, even if you can only spare a little bit.
If you need a hug, I'm here. I'll give you one, because I just might need one too.
'Tis the season.
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