On Christmas, Whether You Celebrate It or Not
A short note on the strange last weeks of the year.
The last two weeks of December are unusual, regardless of whether they have any religious meaning to you.
The world slows down. The work email volume drops. People with families converge with people they have been quietly avoiding all year. People without families notice, more than usual, that they are without families. Almost everyone overeats. Almost everyone overdrinks. Almost everyone, by the third week, is mildly relieved when it ends.
I am not religious. The phrase Merry Christmas has felt, for most of my adult life, like something said in a language I half-understand. But the small forced pause of these two weeks has given me, year after year, something I would not have had otherwise.
What it gives
It gives a stopping point. The calendar finally agrees with what you have suspected since October — that you cannot work at the same pace forever, and that this is permission to stop. Even the busiest workplaces grow quiet, even the most demanding clients go on holiday. The pressure that has been your daily companion eases for a few days.
It gives, often, an evening or two with people you do not see enough. These evenings are sometimes wonderful. They are also sometimes hard — old roles, old wounds, old conversations. Both are part of what the season is doing. The contact, even when imperfect, reminds you who and where you came from.
It gives, for those of us who are alone or lonely, a clear chance to feel the loneliness instead of running from it. This sounds bleak. It is, in the long run, less bleak than the alternative — which is to spend a quiet week distracting yourself from a feeling that will then sit underground for another year.
A small practice
If you celebrate, celebrate well. Be where you are. Drink one less drink than your habit. Listen to the relative you find difficult. Bring something for the host. Let the day be what it is.
If you do not celebrate, take the slowdown anyway. Treat the strange empty week as a gift you did not order but did receive. Walk. Read. Sit. Call one person you should have called months ago.
If you are alone, let yourself be honestly alone for an hour or two, instead of only avoiding it. Sit with what arrives. Most loneliness, sat with for an hour, has something to say.
The year is closing. Whatever it has been, it is ending. The slowdown is brief. Take it.
January will come, and we will all be back to a faster pace soon enough.