Please Make Me Like The Holidays

Self-helpy AF.

Photo by Dmitry Ulitin on Unsplash

Welcome to an advice column by me, Sara Benincasa, a person with many opinions. This column will not diagnose or cure anything. Hopefully, reading it will entertain and perhaps comfort you. Think of it as a donkey that hugs you in a way that does not hurt, and also the donkey is on its way to meet a Very Special Baby in a manger. Send questions to saratoninnewsletter@gmail.com. If I use your question, I’ll  keep you anonymous.

Dear Sara,

I don’t give a shit about Christmas. This is not a Grinchy thing. I get why other people like it, but it is not for me. I don’t like the family that raised me, and I have been pleased to never go home for the holidays. I left that house at 18 and never looked back, except later in therapy, where I like to think I’ve done some decent work. My life since then leads me to believe in miracles, but not in any religion I’ve studied. Now I’m a happy (miracle #1) father (miracle #2) and husband (miracle #3).

The thing is, my kids are little and they love Christmas, and Hannukah, and New Year’s Eve, and Diwali, and truly any holiday they learn of that involves lights and shiny things and great food and their friends inviting them to fun parties. I don’t blame them! Their mom was raised with Christmas and Hannukah, so we do both. We infuse a lot of good messages about being of service to the community. But try as I might, I can’t get excited about this time of year. Any suggestions for getting amped? I’m happy but a little disconnected. — Not a Humbug Guy

Dear NAHG,

Is it getting hot and shaky in here, or did I just read a letter from somebody who goes to therapy and does the work?! Oh, I’m just having a perimenopausal mini-hot flash with panic attack tremors? Good to know, sometimes I get that feeling confused with HORNED UP FOR THERAPY DADDY.

I’m sorry your childhood was not full of the kindness and joy you and your hot wife are giving your kids. I am certain there are volumes of unsavory details you could’ve added but didn’t. Good on you for taking care of yourself and choosing a better life.

I imagine one of the byproducts of creating a better life for one’s kids is occasionally feeling left out. You don’t sound envious, but I wouldn’t blame you if you were. I’m sure it must be a mindfuck to create a wonderful experience for your kids and yet be a little bit mad you never got to enjoy such a thing.

The healthy parent works on those issues without taking them out on a child. And it seems you’re doing that. You’re not trying to ruin your kids’ good time. You’re trying to figure out how you can feel a bit of that joy and excitement yourself.

I heard about a pair of friends who refused to celebrate any of the normie holidays and just made up their own weird ones. It sounded hilarious. Perhaps you might make up your own goofy Christmas or Hanukkah or Winter Solstice ritual and make it an annual event. A bizarre treasure hunt involving a benevolent cryptid? A ceremonial marathon of episodes of ‘80s Canadian kids TV series “Today’s Special”? An interpretive dance contest involving the music of Harry Belafonte, the Electric Light Orchestra, and/or Chappell Roan? WHO CAN SAY?

What is a religious holiday, anyway, but an agreed-upon day to do stuff humans made up, all allegedly in service of a greater force or deity who presumably loves us all? Okay, yes, it’s also often meant to reinforce the values of the overculture and we can all write our collective PhD thesis about this sometime soon, but not now.

You rule, and if you don’t feel warm and fuzzy about other people’s traditions, well, invent your own. Make sure the theme is as sweet as your big, healing heart.

I shall start you off with a glorious and/or evil (you decide!) nonsectarian suggestion.

If the subject tonight is love, the activity today is interpretive dance to the Bluey theme song, okay? Here is a ten-minute version on loop.

Okay, maybe you and the kids prefer Harry Belafonte. Here’s some of that wonderful and dearly departed civil rights icon and musical hero, instead.

Good luck, Cool Hot Dad! And keep up that therapy! You’re setting a wonderful example for your kids.

Dear Sara,

I cannot sleep. I know Wonkette is not a sleep research center. I know I can do a sleep study. I need to talk to a doctor about that. But in the meantime, do you have non-medical suggestions? I’ll probably already know some of them, but maybe seeing them on Wonkette will make me do them. — No Sleep Til My Overpriced Southeastern City

Dear NSTMOSC,

I’m sorry things in Asheville are so tough (ha! See what I did there?). I wish life in Savannah were more soporific (is that where you live?). I’m very glad you are going to see a doctor, by the way, and please do it sooner than “eventually.” We do want to rule out any underlying medical issues. Anyway, until you find those unhindered zzz’s in Atlanta (now am I right?!) here are some simple suggestions from non-doctor me to thee.

1.) No caffeine after 1 or 2 p.m. If this is too tough, I get it, but switch to half a cup of green tea in the mid-to-late afternoon instead of, say, your morning gallon of cold brew coffee.

2.) Exercise every day. I hate telling you this, because I feel like a hypocrite. I so rarely do it. But it works. Obviously, do what’s within your ability and don’t push it. But it does help to tire yourself out in a good, invigorating sort of way.

3.) No screens shining on your eyeballs in bed. Shut the TV off, or turn the screen away from you and just keep your favorite program on loop so you can listen to the soothing sounds of Jim Cramer screaming about Costco. Whatever works! Similarly, take your phone and set it to some soothing soundscape of wonderment. Then put it away from your face.

4.) Eliminate light to the extent possible. Blackout curtains are not so expensive, and a good eye mask is worth it. This won’t work if you are afraid of the dark, and if you are afraid of the dark for any reason, make sure you’ve got a night light to help you feel safer. There are even groovy projectors that cast the night sky upon your ceiling, and I bet some of them work on a timer.

5.) If you need a comfort object to hug, get a comfort object to hug! This can be a teddy bear, a pillow, a consenting adult who asks to be hugged in order to fall asleep, a fuzzy stuffed model of the vas deferens, etc. When I’m stressed, sometimes I sleep with books in my bed. I don’t hug them and they certainly don’t hug back, but it helps.

6.) Experiment with temperature. Some folks love a toasty, cozy room at night. Others need it bone-chillingly frigid. See what works for you.

7.) Keep a sleep diary. When it’s time to get up, take a few moments to write down how you’re feeling. You can even just speak into the recording app on your phone. Then go through 15 minutes of your morning routine, whatever it may be, and check in again with that diary. How do you feel now? A couple weeks of this may yield an invaluable record for you to share with that doctor we’ve agreed you are going to consult. If you want to go higher-tech, use one of them newfangled sleep monitor apps — perhaps the commenters have some favorites.

8.) Try that relaxing tea from the health food store, as long as it’s safe. Make sure the ingredients don’t mess with any prescriptions you may be taking (ask your doctor). And if you get up a lot at night to pee, it is usually best to have this tea a few hours before bed so you don’t wake up and run to the toilet in the dark sans glasses and drench the toilet seat in herbal-infused hippie piss, not that I’ve done that several times this year.

9.) Write a note from yourself at night to yourself in the morning. Altogether now: ewwwwww! I know this is cheesy as hell, but it’s kind of sweet. It especially helps me during times of major depression when I don’t want to go to sleep. For me, mornings are often the hardest times, and I’ve finally hit my stride by 9 p.m., so why the heck would I want to spoil that by resting and then waking up and doing the damn thing all over again? Depression can trick you into thinking you are in fact Sisyphus. Anyway, try an encouraging message like, “Hey, you got this” or “I love you” or “Fuck, another morning. Okay, we can do this” or “Get up and go piss, you’ll feel better.” Put it on a Post-it and make sure you see it when you open your eyeballs in the morning.

And with those inspiring words, I encourage you to talk to your doctor, consider chatting up a therapist, and most of all, remember that you are not alone. You will find the right recipe for you.