Surviving the Christmas Anxiety

There were no plans to write this post today. I guess I figured I was taking as much time off over the festive period as someone who does a lot of work in social media can. I was confident enough that my “Coping with Christmas” blog had covered all bases. But of course, I got served a big old slice of Christmas Anxiety pie even though it was definitely NOT on my meal plan.

I woke up on Boxing Day, the morning after; thoughts whizzing around my head, taking over.  It’s a similar feeling to the one I experienced after I’d eaten my Christmas Pudding yesterday, “I just need to get it out of me.” I didn’t do that by the way, just incase that’s what you were thinking. But these words encircling my brain need to be purged, because otherwise they threaten the girl they belong to.

I’m making this sound bad, Christmas Day was actually ok. I had a teeeeeeensy bit too much champagne the night before and fell asleep on the sofa early doors. I attributed my slight headache and lurking sense of nausea to said drinking. But actually, I’m pretty sure it was the onset of my Christmas morning anxiety. I had tried so hard to make everything perfect for Charlie. After all, this is the last Christmas that he will spend in this house, not that I believe he will really care about that, but still. He actually went to bed delighted, clutching a huge helium balloon that I’d tried to squirrel away but he had spotted; and everything seemed right with the world. Except of course we didn’t leave out a mince pie for Santa or a carrot for Rudolph. I didn’t sprinkle reindeer food or make out Santa had traipsed snow through the house. I didn’t even wrap Charlie’s presents. Similar to the post I wrote about celebrating birthdays with autism, our type of Christmas is not the scene you’re probably ever going to see in the Hallmark Movie. But he was happy. So I’m not sure what it was exactly that triggered the tears for me on Christmas morning. Because to be fair, it’s not like I know any different. Christmas has always kind of been this way since I’ve been a mama. But now I watch my sister with her little boy, how excited he is and I can’t help but feel cheated. It’s ground I go over and over. I’m well aware of that and I know you’ve read similar stories from me before now. It’s my achilles heel. I think I have it all sorted and then it comes around like a brain fucking boomerang as if to say “Ha, don’t be ridiculous – YOU ARE NOT OK WITH THIS!” But I really do want to be at peace with it, I honestly do. I know what Christmas is really about and that Charlie actually embodies this more than anyone I’ve ever known. But I’m obviously still working on it. I just worry that I’ll be working on it until I take my very last breath.

Anyway, so the Christmas anxiety button had been activated which then of course opens up so many other doors, like a twisted, toxic advent calendar of doubts and fears. In June I had plummeted to my lowest recorded weight in many years. I’m not proud of that nor am I advocating the methods I used to get there. And I suppose I knew it was inevitable that eventually I would get to my highest recorded recovery weight. It’s just typical that it happened at Christmas. It’s ridiculous that I even checked. And it’s frustrating that my weight had been pointed out to me in a derogatory manner a couple of times on the lead up to Christmas. But there we have it; all my hard work leading up to Christmas now seemed to be circling the drain, because of a number. Suddenly none of my clothes looked right, I changed four times. I felt ugly. I felt sick. I wasn’t hungry and I almost uttered those infamous words – “I”M NOT GOING.” It’s so hard. I can’t even begin to explain to you how hard it is. And I know that if I didn’t understand any of this I’d be thinking “For God’s sake woman, shut up and get on with it.” I’m never trying to be annoying, or to bring happy occasions down, I’m just attempting to be honest here. Even though I was so certain I was prepared…. I struggled, a lot, before I had even left my house. But as I said in the last post, and it’s something my therapist drilled in to me time and time again – “A lapse does not have to be a relapse.”

Once I made it to my parents,  I huffed and puffed around for the first half hour or so stressing over where to put presents and wondering whether Charlie was in the washing machine. But then I took a nurofen for my head, I gave myself a quiet moment, I had a poppadom (don’t ask) and I looked around at all the beautiful people in my life.  They were all happy. But they were stressing too. It’s normal, we all do it, the pressure of Christmas is prodigious and no-one seems to be immune. My flusters actually went fairly unnoticed and it was at this point that I began to settle, as did my heart rate, thankfully.

And then Christmas was Christmas. We exchanged gifts, we ate dinner, we laughed, we built and rebuilt toys. I even got to witness Charlie playing an actual game with his cousin. The cold, clamminess of apprehension giving way to the warmth of thoughtfulness and the love that can only be experienced by family. I was hugged, I was held, I was told I was beautiful and I was loved. Plus everybody in that room loves my boy, and all his quirkiness. Our Christmas is for us and for anyone who wants to be a part of it. What the rest of the world does is their business.

So where am I now……? Im not too sure yet. The numbers are hard to un-see. The words I’ve heard or read seem to stick to the inside of my brain like persistent, punishing post-it notes. How I feel seeing myself the way that I am now is like a bubbling cauldron of confusion and contemptment. I want to scream in my face “DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS!” And it would be so easy, I know that. But some other part of me is just tired of it all,  I’m so so tired. And thinking back to my lowest weight in June. I wasn’t happy then. If anything I was the complete opposite of that. And taking up less space didn’t afford me any of the things I had convinced myself I wanted. In fact it almost took everything from me. So maybe I’m still working on finding the balance, that middle ground and just holding steady there.

There was no significant point I wanted to make here, other than it’s ok to think you have it all covered and then to stumble. Nobody is judging and nobody is keeping track of how many times you fall down. Everybody just wants you to keep getting back up. And even if something doesn’t start off “perfectly,” you can get through it and you may even surprise yourself by having a good time.

I hope you all had a Wonderful Christmas – Your way.

Love Always

Beth Anne xoxo