by dead inside
Holiday parties? I would much rather spend Christmas ignoring my holiday season anxiety in the comfort of my bed with a bag of cheese puffs.
It’s stupid to ask if the holiday season gives everyone else anxiety. The answer is yes. We’re all stressed the fuck out. (I guess, except for the random psychos who adore spending time with family and money on other people.) I, like most sane adults, find the festivities perilously anxiety-provoking.
I’ll admit that I enjoy festive aesthetics and bad holiday movies, but that’s it. I hate everything that involves selfless merriment with virtual strangers—buying things for other people, caroling, and seeing family. So unless it’s a super boozy party, I’d rather not participate.
The Struggle of Gift-Giving/The Agony of the Post Office
Gift shopping is difficult when your brother and in-laws have exceptional and expensive taste. It’s even harder when you’re a degenerate with mediocre taste and an empty wallet. I never have enough money to buy the gifts I would like. As I look for unique little tchotchkes for people, I always find way more stuff for myself.
Once I’ve selected my gifts, the next anxiety-provoking thing is actually getting the gifts to the people you bought them for. If you are like me and need to mail a bunch of shit, you would prefer to be getting a root canal than spending more time and money shipping the gifts you already can’t afford. Nothing is bleaker than waiting in a post office queue that looks more like a depression-era breadline to pay exorbitant amounts for express shipping for your last-minute purchases.
I recently moved to the UK, and the queues here are nuts, a problem that the pandemic has only exacerbated. When mailing my Christmas gifts, I waited thirty minutes outside the post office before getting inside, upon which another massive queue greeted me. Unlike the British, who have boners for queueing, I found the whole experience incredibly depleting.
Once inside the post office, the real hardship began. I needed to find and assemble boxes for shipping my gifts. I made a temporary home on the grimy lino floor and became a frantic mess of folding, cutting, taping, and scribbling permanent marker everywhere.
At one point, the attendant looked over at me from the counter and said I was the most miserable and desperate person he had ever seen. Keep in mind this man had recently seen nothing but never-ending queues of cold, British people also trying to mail things last minute.
When I completed my boxes, I brought them to the counter. The attendant said they were much too big for the small items I was sending. I felt immediately overwhelmed with anxiety and devastation. It was like I had spent the whole afternoon doing blow and DMing everyone who had ever ghosted me. It destroyed me.
Then, I saw the cost of sending these too-big boxes to the US. I died inside, cried outside, and handed over my credit card. At the end of this interaction, the post office attendant said I could help myself to one of the drinks in the freezer. My heart melted as I rushed over and grabbed the biggest CBD soda they had to offer.
Not Everything Needs to Be Christmas-Flavored
Aside from buying and shipping shit, can we talk about the Christmas foods? As if I haven’t already been gaining lockdown weight, I am now being gifted cookies and donuts and buying treats to handle the stress of all the buying and shipping of shit. Aside from the calories, I have also been slightly disappointed with the Christmas-themed foods. Not the usual Christmas delights like cakes and cookies and mulled wine; those are always great and welcomed. But all the regular food was altered to be Christmas-y. Have you ever had Christmas-themed arancini? I have. They’re subpar. A Christmas-themed cinnamon roll? Fine. But unnecessary. Was the regular kind not festive enough?
Family: Christmas Demons
Finally, the most stress-inducing part of the holidays is seeing family. Why do people associate the holidays, a time of supposed cheer, with spending time with the group of people who give you the most anxiety and bring about horrible memories from your mess of a childhood??? It isn’t good.
My parents are also the worst cooks, aren’t into buying trees anymore, and are continuously frantic, crazed, and depressed by how much money they spend on Christmas.
I assumed this year would be better as there is a massive pandemic ravaging the world, and no one should be meeting up with anyone. But oh no, my partner is still insisting we see his family. Though his family members are much better cooks than mine and actually buy Christmas trees, I would much rather spend Christmas in the comfort of my bed with a bag of cheese puffs than be social while trying to act like I’m not dead inside. (Update: London has entered Tier 4 lockdown. No traveling!! No family, I guess.
The Suffering Has Only Just Begun
I commend everyone for taking COVID seriously and not traveling for the festive season. You are doing a service to your country and your mental health. I can already tell you my Christmas will be filled with too much Xanax and lots of me trying to get this blog more Instagram followers so I can feel warm, loved, and seen this holiday season.