Jingle Hell — How Christmas Kills

Will you be its next victim?

It was the dread of Christmas that killed my friend Daniel.

I blame the American Christmas Industrial Complex, our now-extended Christmas mania.

An already stressful, sometimes enjoyable season that should be two weeks is now four months.

In the past, you only had to gird your loins to get through.

“Just one month, okay, I can do this.”

Instead, we’re now faced with The Hallmark Channel playing 24/7 Christmas movies starting mid-October. Eartha Kitt is purring “Santa Baby” over the loudspeaker while you’re in Rite-Aid buying supplies for your kid’s Halloween-themed art project. The festive ribbons are taunting you in every grocery store, and an Elf on the Shelf maniacally leans in to whisper, “Will you have a good Christmas this year? Hmmmm?” while there’s this pulsating, nagging, insidious feeling that another year is basically over, with very few of the goals accomplished, so why even keep trying?

Daniel was a guy from high school. We were never hang-out friends but there was a mutual respect, and he reached out after reading my writings on mental health struggles.

His life, I learned, had been anything but a bed of roses. There’d been divorce. Drinking. Possible addiction. A work injury that left him in constant pain. And most tragically, a son who’d died of a drug overdose.

By last November 5th he was already dreading the upcoming Christmas season. I commiserated over how society forces Christmas cheer on us earlier and earlier and advised him to “hold strong these months.”

On Christmas Eve I sent this text:

“Just writing to say I’m thinking of ya, and it was nice to reconnect with you this year. Stay off of social media. Do your best, have whatever version of Christmas works for you. And pretty soon this forced holiday stuff will be behind us and everyone can chill.”

In January I learned he never received it because he was already dead then.

The impending Christmas season was just too much for him to face. In plain sight, this is literally killing the souls of so many Americans.

Plenty of people will point to his history of struggles and that it wasn’t just the extended Christmas season, but this is a real thing, y’all!

Earlier this month a very distant relative wrote me out of the blue, in distress: “I’m doing awful. Decided to do Christmas this year. Haven’t done Christmas since the kids.” (She lost two young children years ago). “Really nervous. I always had Christmas here for everyone — 25 people. Now everyone is gone.”

Note, it was only October 5th, and this poor gal was riddled with dread and fear about getting through a holiday season more than two months away.

According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), 64% of people with mental illness report holidays make their condition of Depression worse. I’m betting the percentage is similarly high for anyone struggling through Christmastime due to loss of a cherished loved one, an over-fixation on the now-past good old days when the kids were young, or the debilitating debt and over-spending to keep up with the Joneses.

But hold on, it’s only October, (only September if you’re in Costco with the Christmas trees), and you’ve still got a full three to four months - 25 to 33 percent of your year to claim and live fully with your eyes wide open to possibility.

Try focusing on that though when your Inbox is full of reminders from retailers having pre-, pre-!, PRE-Black Friday Sales!! on November 1st, or with George Michael already singing about “Last Christmas.”

Somehow it’s the music that’s the worst offender.

I adore the feeling Christmas brings me — when it’s actually Christmas. But Andy Williams telling you it’s the MOST wonDERful TIME of the year while you’re shopping for an October birthday?

Oh really, Andy? And exactly what time is that? September? November?

Cue the Mariah Carey song! Yes, you too can watch as the poor schlubs working retail melt — into — the — floor — as they realize they’ll be blessed in hearing this song five times a day for twenty-five percent of their year.

This warped, extended season can cause even the most ardent Christmas fan to loudly declare on December 26th, literally, that they cannot listen to one, more, Christmas song. They’ve been beaten to a pulp and they — are — DONE, stick a fork in them, let’s move on.

My devoted Catholic mother will go out of her way to kindly inform you that the Christmas season actually only begins on Christmas Day, and the twenty-some days leading up to Christmas are only the Season of Advent. Imagine her and other true blue, by-the-letter Catholics greeting people on December 29th with joyful, heartfelt declarations of “Merry Christmas!” only to be confronted by dead-in-the-eyes postal clerks and exhausted friends who’re already fearing their impending January and February credit card balances, ready to haul off and smack her.

They can’t help it — they’ve been pummeled by four months of it. It’s almost like the pharmaceutical industry is in cahoots with the retail industry to help boost the sales of very-much-needed antidepressant meds.

I’m not a Grinch.

Ebenezer Scrooge hasn’t won the day.

I like Christmas very much and Christmas music even more — in the time between say December 15th and January 1st.

Be Deliberate in Creating the Season YOU Want

Be good to yourself; it’s rough out there. Initiate self-care, now. Be aware that as annoying as the world’s consumeristic fixation is, you can choose to not engage until you’re ready, even if it means less socializing, less engaging with the culture. (For parents, this is the hardest).

Worried that people might label you anti-social? Maybe a bit depressed? Let ’em think whatever, but you are taking care of you and maybe even saving yourself to make it through to another year.

And those of you heartier souls who are fine with the extended season? Keep an eye out for friends and loved ones who are annually just hanging on by a thread to endure the now four-month reminder of all they feel they’ve lost. Invite them in, sure, but honor the space they need to get through.

It’s their Season of Pain: the Now-Extended Version.