Lincoln Square in Chicago, from my most recent past life.

Several years ago I read an article about the holidays celebrated around the time of the winter solstice. The big ones are Christmas and Hanukkah, but there are others, which is why some people will wish each other ‘happy holidays’ instead of ‘Merry Christmas’ or ‘Happy Hanukkah’ because you never know if someone is celebrating Rohatsu or Solstice or whatever and everyone deserves their holiday. (Although, let’s be real, if you were celebrating Rohatsu, you probably are Zen enough after meditating for a week not to give a shit what people say to you about the holiday. We should all endeavor to be so.) The thing about the article that grabbed me was that this has always been the darkest time of the year and that we’re about to enter the coldest, harshest part of the year.

If you think about it, December is not the coldest part of the year. But December 21st is the darkest. And then it gets colder and colder for a few months. Back before we had climate controlled homes and grocery stores and cars, a lot more people used to die during the dark cold months. So it was literally a time to celebrate together with the remainders of your fall harvest, before it went bad (experiencing that this year with my own garden) with everyone that wouldn’t be able to reach you again after the heavy snows fell, or ice, or whatever, and hope that you’d see each other again in spring. Knowing that maybe you wouldn’t.

And you threw light out. You lit candles, you lit fires, you threw boughs of evergreen on things. To cheer it. To gently push back against the dark.

And we still do that.

No matter what religion you are—or aren’t—there are gatherings of all types in December, even into January sometimes. People around you will throw lights on their homes and in their windows. There will be decorations in trees, on lampposts, in store windows. I have always loved this.

One of the things I have loved the most about having my own house is that I can decorate the outside as well as the inside. When we first moved here, money was tight, but I managed to scrape together enough for us to get some orange and purple lights for Halloween. When I took down the Halloween decorations in November, Dean mentioned getting the lights and I told him we could leave them with the fall wreath. They could be Thanksgiving lights too. Until it was time for Christmas lights. I like having lights.

I get up early. I run in the dark in the mornings. I have been getting up early for years. Now, it’s mostly by choice. In Chicago, it was because I taught early morning classes and biked to them or took the train and I need an hour to commute and twenty minutes in the winter to put all of the warm clothes on. I remember, I remember the heaviness I would feel in January once the lights on the Christmas tree were no longer there to greet me when I went out at 5am. January was the worst month. Everything was dark and cold and unforgiving. But I still took those lights down on New Years Day because I wanted them to remain special. (And being special means you don’t put them up in September, retailers!!)

Our porch right now. It’s simple. I love it. (That’s Cloud in the window. Yes, the windows were open. It was 70 degrees on December 2nd. I love not being obliterated by winter for months like I was in Chicago.)

I like coming home from a dark, cold run and seeing lights on the porch. It’s great. I’m actually, right now, as I write this, questioning why the hell I don’t just do Valentine’s Day lights and Meredith’s Birthday lights (because my birthday is the day before St. Patrick’s Day and obviously more important) until the sun wakes back up again. I shall consider it.

I read an article about electric plugs once (shut up) and it basically said that it’s best if you either leave them plugged in all the time or only plug them in while using them and then immediately unplug them. Safer that way. So when I plug in the Christmas tree lights, they stay plugged in. This is how it has been ever since I have lived on my own and this is how it always shall be. There shan’t be this … stumbling out into the darkness of the bedroom and fumbling for the plug, nor shall there be a sleepy reach around the boughs for the wall outlet to shut the thing down for the night. No. Just leave it in. Leave it on. It’s perfect. It only gets one month. Just let it glow.

I start playing Christmas music on Thanksgiving and I play it until the decorations are down on New Years Day. Ask your Alexa to play Holiday Instrumentals Radio from Pandora and join me in my festive ambiance.

I love this time of year. I. Love. It.

But.

This year, I’m not feeling it.

Gotta remember my Jake. He’d be shocked that I’m so far behind on my gift wrapping.

This doesn’t happen often, and when it does, I tend to worry about myself. I’m like, two decibels short of Buddy the Elf on most holiday years. And I will dive in to WHATEVER December holiday you celebrate. Let’s throw light on that shit, teach me your ways, let’s get together, let me learn your traditions, let’s love each other, buy presents, chant, whatever, let’s GO.

I haven’t purchased one gift yet.

Normally I’m at least half done by Thanksgiving. It’s December 2nd and I’m … I’m starting to kind of understand how those Christmas Eve panic shoppers must be like every year? Because I just … don’t feel like it’s the holiday?

I’ve done all the things. We put up the tree, (the cats are 70% better this year) we’ve put lights on the porch, we’re hosting a ‘festivus’ sometime in January (everyone’s busy in December) and I’ve even played the Holiday Instrumental Radio a couple of times. But. I’m just not excited.

I mentioned this to a friend who said, “give yourself some grace. It’s been a long two years.” And it has. It has. And for Dean and I, it’s been a long three years. (In case you want a recap; moving, fire, grandma, tornado, Jake.) But even last year, with all of the terror and uncertainty about traveling during the holidays, I was still excited about the season. And don’t get me wrong, we were terrified of traveling. I did extensive research to find hotels following safety protocols on the way. And was shamed by an employer for asking to be exempt from a “mandatory Christmas Party” because it was the week before we left, no one would be wearing masks, and I had promised relatives that I hadn’t seen in over a year that I would be avoiding those situations for two weeks before we went up there.

So perhaps it’s just that last year seemed like the end of 2020, which will forever go down in infamy as a terrible year for pretty much everyone GLOBALLY—which has to be a pretty rare thing in history—and it felt like we were leaving it behind. I mean, we had to know that we weren’t, but… Regardless, this year, I feel like we’re all just washed out. We’re trying real hard, but some spark is missing. I even did a little crowdsourcing on social media today to see what other people were doing to find joy… and only got a couple of responses.

I was going to try and write something with advice and gumption about how to try and ‘shortcut’ into that holiday spirit that you might be missing, but, as usual, I find myself tasked with writing about the honesty of the situation. And I think the one good thing I can say is that we’re all in this together, folks. No matter what domination you are, no matter how much you may love the holiday time, or love to hate the holiday time, everyone’s having a hard holiday time.

But.

This is one thing I have noticed.

We’re not quitting.

I put up my decorations before Thanksgiving because I knew I would be coming back after Thanksgiving and goddammit my decorations need their full fucking month. My friends are still having a Festivus in January (because December is too busy) but we’re DOING IT with a Secret Santa and everything even though they only reply to my texts when I ask “are we still doing this?” Yes. They are ALL still doing it. They’re just not electrified. But they DO NOT want it canceled.

When I did my crowdsourcing about finding joy in the season, I got a couple of responses about actively looking for the joy in little places, looking forward to seeing loved ones, and one about an advent calendar because it gave her something to look forward to every day. Each of these things requires a little bit of effort on the part of the beholder of joy.

If this seems depressing, it’s not.

This is our genetics kicking in.

The gazebo over my parents’ pond where Dean and I got married.

We were born of a people who somehow survived the darkest, coldest times of year with none of the comforts that we enjoy today, and yet, gathered together in these times to consciously appreciate the presence of loved ones. To enjoy those little moments of peace and joy in every day. To revel in those little holiday treats that aren’t available at any other time of year. To find light in the dark.

It is harder this year. We have to try this year. But we’re still around to try. We’re still around to enjoy those little things, those loved ones, those pockets of tradition. And that’s awesome. That’s worth fighting for.

So keep fighting for your holidays, friends, no matter what they are, when they are, if you believe, if you’re doing it for someone else, whatever. Do it for joy. Do it for love.

Do it because if you don’t throw light on it, it’s just dark.

Finding Joy in the Dark Times