What Do the Empaths Do at Christmas?
Cue The Emotions or Anthony Hamilton. Your Choice
This holiday season sucks.
I’m not excited that Christmas is in three days. In fact, I actually forgot. My daughter had to remind me. And what makes that so bad is that three days from now is my birthday.
Yup. Christmas baby, checking in.
I’ll be 53.
I don’t so much care that I’ll be 53 since a) I don’t look like I’m 53, 2) I almost didn’t see 46, and third, refer back to a). I’m not excited about Christmas this year because it doesn’t feel like I should be.
To put this into context, I am the daughter of a mother who traditionally makes a big deal about Christmas. She usually starts calling around October, reminding us (my husband, daughter, and me) to send our Christmas lists. I’ve lived in Georgia for almost 30 years, and until recently, I’d get a phone call right after Thanksgiving asking if we’d gotten our tree yet. One year, I was nearly disowned because it was a week before Christmas, and we still didn’t have one. Growing up, our house would be overrun with boxes, bags, wrapping paper, bows, ribbon, name tags, and tape. And I knew if she was in their bedroom with the door shut, NOT to open it or even knock. Santa’s most diligent elf was hard at work.
Thanks to my mother, my daughter’s first Christmas looked like Santa delivered every gift in America to our apartment (she was more fascinated with the boxes and bows than the actual toys, however). And because I was born on Christmas, she always made a point of making it extra special since people (strangers and family alike) would try to get away with giving me the dreaded “combo present.” To this day, all my birthday gifts are signed “love Mom and Dad,” and my Christmas gifts are signed “from Santa.”
The point I’m trying to make is that Christmas has always been one of my favorite times of year. Until now.
There’s too much going on.
Maybe it’s the state of the country (which is an absolute sh*t show) or the state of the world (also a sh*t show).
Maybe it’s me reflecting on all the things I said last year that I was going to accomplish this year that I didn’t.
Maybe it’s the grief that hangs heavy in the air and streams across my social media feed almost hourly.
Maybe it’s the video I just watched that compared the cost of Kevin’s grocery store trip in Home Alone (1990) to what it would cost in 2025 ($19.83 and $60.24, respectively).
Maybe it’s all these damn hormones. Because menopause is a hellscape I don’t think we talk nearly enough about and no one told me there would be things far worse than hot flashes to deal with.
Or maybe, which is highly likely, it’s all of the above. And the fact that I am an empath, and there’s so much going on? I’d just rather not. I mean, who has the time?
And if the world around me were in a better state, maybe I’d be feeling much better about this season, but it’s not. So I end up fighting whatever's going on out THERE while trying to wrestle whatever’s going on in HERE.
Which means, as I have previously mentioned, this season sucks.
And I’m not the only one who feels this way. If I had a dollar for every post I’ve seen about this being the least Christmasy Christmas season, I could buy the same groceries Kevin bought in 1990.
And yet…
God is still good.
So what DO empaths do at Christmas? Well, this one is going to eat carbs. Lots and lots of yummy carbs.