Happy Hell-idays

Holidays are just not magical anymore. Gone are the days of wonder filled excitement and icing topped anticipation for the Thanksgiving and Christmas season; which, thanks to retail, have become one and the same. In place of the seasonal happiness and warmth Hallmark advocates for comes stress; a lot of it. Holiday stress is a special brand of stress that is capable of encroaching on every vulnerable and potentially happy corner of your life. It has many elusive and slippery forms that, in one way or another, touch us all. The first embodiment of stress lies in the ever-present strain of money, which is amplified with expenses for food, travel, and gifts. Feeding people on a day to day basis is pricey without the glitz and glam expected of a holiday meal. A close second on the list is stress of gifting. Gifts bother even those who can afford them. There is constant pressure to buy the right thing for the right person, without being over the top or a cheapskate. Buying for relationships, particularly new ones, is a whole other can of worms. The stress of time, or a lack there of, pairs nicely with the aforementioned. Students, in particular, fall victim to this strain, more than others. With finals in sight, applications due soon, and a constant course load that is unyielding even to holiday cheer, no one feels crunched at this time quite like a student. The stress of romance is a hard hitter this time of year as well; more poignant only on Valentine's Day. No one likes to be romantically left out during the holidays. Unless of course you are actually in a relationship, in that case, generally by December you are in desperate need of a vacation. All of these stressors lay themselves on us like bricks of ice, freezing out any sense of holiday warmth. As if dealing with the stresses many face alone was not enough, add family to the mix and you have the makings of a full-blown mental breakdown.  

There are few people that can exacerbate stress more efficiently than our loved ones. It could be a result of the mental picture we have of Mr. and Mrs. Hallmark, sitting nicely at the table, carving up the perfectly roasted turkey, inside their immaculately clean and tastefully decorated house, with their lovely and functional family. No one is drunk, no one hates their in-laws, and no one has stormed off after an off-color comment about their career choice. If only. We juxtapose this scene with what our holidays really are and end up falling short of our unrealistic expectations. This is the silliest form of stress, as it is completely avoidable and highly ironic. The holidays are supposed to be family centered. Instead we vie for a commercialized fallacy of the home structure, giving in to media and our own insecurities. Instead of enjoying our loved ones we end up resenting them.

Personally, my ideal celebration would be grabbing takeout and not leaving my bed for a whole twenty-four hours. My phone would be off, my blinds would be drawn, and my door locked, tightly.  For all intents and purposes I would be dead to the world until after 7 p.m. the next day. As a full-time student who works no less than thirty hours a week and who has not had a full twenty-four hours off in two entire months, all I want is peace and relaxation. I do not want to scour malls for the last minute gift.  Nor do I wish to spend my "vacation time" cooking and cleaning like a mad woman.

When did the holidays get so messed up? People argue over who is going to dinner where and no one cuts anyone a break. Businesses run by heartless money mongers, force workers to slave away on a day for family in order to turn a cheap profit. Traffic incites road rage and people get into physical altercations over the last can of cranberry sauce! It appears that the holidays bring out the nut in us all. Maybe, just possibly, peace on earth would be obtained if instead of rushing around in search of perfection, we all just relaxed. If life was perfect, the holidays would consist of the whole world turning off for a moment as each of us slunk into a relaxed state of being. Or, I suppose, we could collectively start a post-Halloween Xanax regiment…