I have no Christmas spirit.
I’m not a huge holiday person to start with. The Christmas decorations we own are neatly contained in one box. I can count on two fingers the numbers of times I’ve put up a Christmas tree since we got married. I don’t bake cookies, I don’t do cards, I own no holiday clothing. Not even socks.
But usually I have some engagement with the season. A little part of me connects with the general excitement and allure. I hear a traditional song and smile. I find a gift for someone that I think they’ll love. I eat a cookie (that someone else has baked) and relish the crumbs.
This year–nothing. A variety of factors are playing in. I’m working a freaking ton, which means all I have energy for is sitting. Sometimes even that gets overwhelming. Traveling to connect with family sounds cold and tiring, regardless of the end benefits. Decorating and baking equal clean up. Christmas concerts mean leaving the house.
I’ve tried. . .a bit. BH and I had a lovely tramp through the freshly fallen snow last week, and ended the evening with homemade cheese fondue, eaten AT THE TABLE. WITH THE TV OFF. Who knew you could intake food without the television? (BH and I both grew up in families where meals were NEVER eaten in front of the TV, which makes it all the more strange that we spend so many evenings on the couch. We’re going to break this habit when Elver arrives. I promise.)
The past couple of shifts have had some rough cases. A young, otherwise pretty healthy man awoke to find his right side knocked out, courtosy of the large amount of bleeding in his brain. A mid-forties woman with a recurrence of her cancer, increased since her last hospitalization two weeks ago. Another woman assaulted while driving a car by her boyfriend, admitted for various broken bones and now dealing with a CPS investigation for her children.
I sigh after each case, shaking my head at the suffering already experienced and the anguish still to come. I think about my life–a couch that I love to sit on, a healthy kiddo kicking my ribs, a husband who never complains about bringing me juice when I’m too tired to get my own, a family to go home to. When it comes right down to it, I’ve got NOTHING to complain about.
I still don’t have any Christmas spirit. But I think I’ve got a little Christmas perspective at least, and for now, that’s going to be enough.