‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the night
Not a depressive episode was stirring, no, not even a sense of fright
The illusions of a mentally stable life were hung by the chimney with care
In hopes that they’ll soon become reality
(Ah you thought I was gonna rhyme, bamboozled again.)
‘Tis the season guys! As I’m writing this, it’s 23 more days til Christmas. Either way, Christmas is upon us and that can be really awesome for most and really terrifying for some. But for the minute few, it’s both. Gift giving was never a tradition in my family; we mostly just focused on the food and music and Christmas décor and stuff like that. So as a kid, all full of hope and joy, I only lived for the mainstream seasonal hype. I’m 20 now, and things have changed. I’m now full to the brim with dark humor and anxiety and there’s only one thing I love about Christmas: January.
Imagine your phone is at the highest volume, the volume you’re used to listen to all your stuff at. Cool. But also imagine one day, while you’re listening to Mambo No.5 (if you don’t know what Mambo No.5 is, get out please) the volume on your phone starts to gradually get higher. Inexplicably. THE VOLUME IS JUST GETTING HIGHER. So much so, that it’s becoming deafening and quite unbearable BUT it’s just getting higher and YOU CAN’T REMOVE THE EARPLUGS FROM YOUR EARS. I’m really bad at analogies but yeah that’s how I feel during Christmas. Lol. It’s like my depression is at a level where I can cope with its bullcrap around July-August, but as soon as September hits, I’m all like “Wake me up when December ends PLEASE!”
I recently got a job a few days after my birthday in October, working as a CSR for an internet/mobile service provider and honestly it was really fetch in the beginning, learning new stuff and whatnot. Now, it’s taking a tremendous toll on my mental and physical health. Last week alone, things became really unbearable, I had a panic attack every day I was on work. After ending a call with a customer, I’d rest my head on my desk, throw my shawl over me, roll up into a tight ball and I’d cry. Other times, I’d have to ask my supervisor to go in the washroom for like 10 mins just to regulate my breathing again because there are times where I can’t breathe during my attacks. It’s that bad. It’s like dude, I’m reaaalllyyyy not getting paid enough to have full-blown attacks in work. The job ain’t that much worth it. I mean yeah, I’m grateful for the money but I rather have a panic attack every day on work and get paid $100,000 at the end of it all.
Christmas is just a really depressing time for me. I’m doing more research as to why this happens to some people because I’m literally confused about this all. But it’s a thing and I know I’m not alone… And I guess that makes me feel a teensy bit better.