When Christmas is not so merry

All is calm, all is bright… There’s mistletoe, there’s wine… There are tidings of comfort and joy, wishings of a merry Christmas… Perhaps, there is even some rocking around the Christmas tree.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year…

…except when it’s not.

I was a little unsure about writing this post. I don’t want to come across as a fun-sucking cloud of negativity, but it seemed important as I suspect that I’m not on my own when I say I don’t always love Christmas. And maybe I’m not on my own in spending a lot of this time of year feeling very guilty about my lack of festive cheer and joliment. I would really like to get into the spirit of the season, I’d love to rejoice in all that Christmas brings. But, you know what? Sometimes that’s just plain difficult. This post won’t be for everyone, but it will be for some people, so if it's you, read on.

Christmas time can act as a magnifying glass: issues, problems, imperfections, sorrows — they can all seem that little bit bigger at this time of year. Family rifts, loneliness, absent people, fear of the future, instability, uncertainty: These are phrases that no one wants to associate with Christmas, but in reality, they can be all too prominent and maybe all the more so when they’re placed on the backdrop of a time that should be about joy and hope.

I don't have any great solutions for you, but something I've been trying is to take my eyes off the big things and find joy in the little things. Maybe as little as how much you love mince pies and mulled wine, or as watching Arthur Christmas and The Nativity, or as getting to spend an extra half hour in bed over the holidays (if you have kids, ignore this point and I’m sorry), or as the smell of the Christmas tree, or as the feeling of fluffy, new slippers, or as belting out some classic carols. I don’t know what the little things are for you, but I do know that, if you look, you will find them.

In this last week, for me, it’s been rediscovering the words of "O Holy Night", perhaps hearing them clearly for the first time. That line “A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious dawn” sums a lot of it up for me. Weary — that’s how so many of us feel. Weary of the struggle. Weary of trying to keep our heads above water. Weary of putting on our shiny, happy faces to hide what is actually going on inside. Weary. BUT, in the midst of that weariness is hope, a thrill of hope, perhaps only a inkling of it, but it is there. A distant glimmer of light on the horizon - small, subtle, but bringing with it the beginning of a new and glorious dawn.

For many of you, those words will do nothing right now, and that’s ok too. The main thing I want to say about this is, if what I’ve just written resonates with you at all, know that you’re not the only one. Let that fact take away some of the guilt you feel for not sharing all the joy, but I hope you do find that glimmer.