Blue Christmas
Yesterday or today, I don`t really know which, I start my annual depression. It starts November 6 or November 7 and continues to December 23. It started in 1992 and continues every year. 25 years of not feeling as Christmasy as the rest of the world wants me to feel.
The reason I don`t know which day it begins is it because it is my father`s birthday. Half of his identification listed his birthday on November 6 and half of his identification listed his birthday on November 7. I guess when he was born in 1912 that they didn`t keep the best of records.
My annual depression started on November 7 in 1992. My father had been in the hospital since early October in Winnipeg. My mother started saying at a hotel but when it became apparent that my dad would be in hospital for a longer period of time, she rented a furnished apartment. Our home was well taken care of my many caring neighbours in Dauphin. On November 7, my mom had decided that we should go out for a nice supper to celebrate my dad`s birthday rather just another meal at the hospital cafeteria.
Apparently, November 7 is a popular birthday because while my mom and I were at the restaurant, the staff sang `Happy Birthday`` to three different people. Each time, I started crying and really didn`t stop. I knew I was crying because I knew my dad would never celebrate another birthday.
He received excellent care at St. Boniface Hospital, however, despite all of their compassionate efforts, my father continued to suffer and be in great pain until he passed on December 23.
Some little girls aren`t lucky when choosing their father, but I hit the Royal Flush in terms of dads. He likely wasn`t a perfect human being, but he was a perfect father to me. I could go on for pages and pages about what a wonderful man he was but it would never do him justice.
He was older than most of the dad`s of my peers so I always knew that he would likely pass in my 20s, which he did. I should have been more emotionally prepared, but I don`t think you can ever prepare for losing your soul-mate.
For the first few years, I didn`t realize that I was experiencing this depression every year. I just felt no joy at Christmas. After about 7 years, it made sense to me. People tell me that my father would want me to move on and to feel joy at the holiday season. They are good intentioned people and they are probably correct. What they don`t realize is that it is not a choice. I would love to feel joy at Christmas time. I would love to shop without feeling that it is just a burden. I would love to bake. I would love to decorate. Depression is just not a choice, but it is my reality. I don't spend the whole time thinking of my dad during this time, and I mostly suffer in silence.
I think of my dad on Remembrance Day as he was a Veteran and it is another reason why I'm proud of him. I also think of him at every Christmas function I attend. It is thinking of him that gives me the courage to get off the couch and put on makeup and a fancy outfit and go out and pretend that I am feeling joy. I do think of him on December 23 and on that day, I find a way to take that day off of life to just lie in bed and cry.
Most people don't understand,however, I know I am not alone. There are many others for whom Christmas is not a particularly celebratory time in their life. Attending a Blue Christmas is important to me. Everyone who attends feels the same way. I can get comfort and I can comfort.
I get mad at the people who chose to say "Bah Humbug" or who celebrate "The Grinch". I get mad because I would love to experience the joy of the holiday season but I am not able to. Christmas is a magical time of year. I can't feel that, but you can do me a favour on behalf of me and all the others whom Christmas is very difficult. You can celebrate to the full extent that you are able. You never know what the future holds. You may find yourself joining me at a Blue Christmas mass the next year. If you can celebrate the holidays, please chose to and have an egg nog for me!!
The reason I don`t know which day it begins is it because it is my father`s birthday. Half of his identification listed his birthday on November 6 and half of his identification listed his birthday on November 7. I guess when he was born in 1912 that they didn`t keep the best of records.
My annual depression started on November 7 in 1992. My father had been in the hospital since early October in Winnipeg. My mother started saying at a hotel but when it became apparent that my dad would be in hospital for a longer period of time, she rented a furnished apartment. Our home was well taken care of my many caring neighbours in Dauphin. On November 7, my mom had decided that we should go out for a nice supper to celebrate my dad`s birthday rather just another meal at the hospital cafeteria.
Apparently, November 7 is a popular birthday because while my mom and I were at the restaurant, the staff sang `Happy Birthday`` to three different people. Each time, I started crying and really didn`t stop. I knew I was crying because I knew my dad would never celebrate another birthday.
He received excellent care at St. Boniface Hospital, however, despite all of their compassionate efforts, my father continued to suffer and be in great pain until he passed on December 23.
Some little girls aren`t lucky when choosing their father, but I hit the Royal Flush in terms of dads. He likely wasn`t a perfect human being, but he was a perfect father to me. I could go on for pages and pages about what a wonderful man he was but it would never do him justice.
He was older than most of the dad`s of my peers so I always knew that he would likely pass in my 20s, which he did. I should have been more emotionally prepared, but I don`t think you can ever prepare for losing your soul-mate.
For the first few years, I didn`t realize that I was experiencing this depression every year. I just felt no joy at Christmas. After about 7 years, it made sense to me. People tell me that my father would want me to move on and to feel joy at the holiday season. They are good intentioned people and they are probably correct. What they don`t realize is that it is not a choice. I would love to feel joy at Christmas time. I would love to shop without feeling that it is just a burden. I would love to bake. I would love to decorate. Depression is just not a choice, but it is my reality. I don't spend the whole time thinking of my dad during this time, and I mostly suffer in silence.
I think of my dad on Remembrance Day as he was a Veteran and it is another reason why I'm proud of him. I also think of him at every Christmas function I attend. It is thinking of him that gives me the courage to get off the couch and put on makeup and a fancy outfit and go out and pretend that I am feeling joy. I do think of him on December 23 and on that day, I find a way to take that day off of life to just lie in bed and cry.
Most people don't understand,however, I know I am not alone. There are many others for whom Christmas is not a particularly celebratory time in their life. Attending a Blue Christmas is important to me. Everyone who attends feels the same way. I can get comfort and I can comfort.
I get mad at the people who chose to say "Bah Humbug" or who celebrate "The Grinch". I get mad because I would love to experience the joy of the holiday season but I am not able to. Christmas is a magical time of year. I can't feel that, but you can do me a favour on behalf of me and all the others whom Christmas is very difficult. You can celebrate to the full extent that you are able. You never know what the future holds. You may find yourself joining me at a Blue Christmas mass the next year. If you can celebrate the holidays, please chose to and have an egg nog for me!!
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