Holiday hangover

Christmas time is the most wonderful time of the year. With that sort of expectation, it can be a tough time for some. Sort of like going to Disneyland, "The happiest place on Earth." It is a lot to live up to, and if you end up not having a good time, it is your fault, right?

Christmastime can be this contrast. Amazing joy of time with friends and family, and darker moments of reflection as the end of another year draws close. Christmas rarely lives up to the magic it had as a child, but there are definitely years that mean more than others. Especially with the cold and darker days of winter, it can be easy to slip into a funk and fall prey to believing that there is more darkness than light as you compare what is, with what was, or with what "should" be.

I decided at (almost) the last minute to send out Christmas cards. As I mentioned elsewhere, it seemed sort of a silly thing to do as a single guy. No family photos or letters about what the kids are up to this year, but a reader called me out on it and sent one out a few years ago. After looking over so many pictures when I was deciding on what to put on the walls, I started to see that I had some great adventures this past year. I figured I'd send out five or ten, but the list grew as I thought of all the people I want to stay in touch with in the new year. I suppose the Christmas card is a way of saying that you are in my thoughts, and I want to do better at staying in touch in the new year.

Christmas Day was a blessed day of family. My brother and I gathered at my parents house in the morning, and then met up with a crowd of about 30 of extended family in the evening. When I have told people over the years how a large group of us still gather for holidays and a week together in the summer, and actually enjoy the time together, it is clear that it is a rare thing. I feel very lucky indeed. There is a funny transition as you get older. As families grow and life gets more complicated, you see each other less. At the same time, the age differences mean less, and you have more common ground having years in your own tank. It is a double blessing to have family as friends.

On the other side, friends as family, a group of us gathered together once again for the 42nd annual Dunsire Sleepover Party. Actually, each year is labeled the "42nd annual", and though it hasn't been forty-two just yet, it has probably been a good fifteen or twenty years of annual gatherings. We get together to celebrate the season, and to celebrate our continuing friendship, built off a chance choice to work at the same restaurant so many years ago. There are more kids these days, some who are now adults, and the party is a little less crazy, but it still goes into the wee hours of the morning, and many of us pull up some floor and stay the night. With lives again more complicated, this is the anchor that gets us together for an evening of catching up, and reliving old stories.

After all this great activity in the span of a few days, there is a letdown afterward. The hangover is both figurative and literal,.The heavy drink, volumes of food, and little sleep catches up with you and leaves you feeling a bit miserable. The emotional hangover of the quiet after the chaos hits you as well, and it is perfectly apt to walk into the next week ready to make changes in the new year.

These days, the holiday hangover seems to come earlier and more often. I don't think it is a secret anymore that depression is a guest that never quite leaves my life. She'll hide in a corner now and then, but I will come upon her and she will take my hand and walk with me for a spell. The holiday season makes me think of years and people that have passed by, and even with all the wonderful friends and family, Christmas is missing that one close connection that makes it personal and real.

I took a few days extra days off in December, using up some comp time built up from the long hours of tax season. I was able to go out on a random Monday run outside after being relegated to the treadmill in the days of working dark to dark. It was cool but not freezing, and a dense fog clouded my glasses, so it was soon easier to see without them. A few bike commuters zipped by, and an occasional runner passed in the opposite direction, but the trail was largely mine.

I most often run and drive listening to podcasts. I enjoy them a great deal, but I get to the point of letting music slip out of my life. When I break the cycle and shut off the chatter in favor of music, it feels like a beam of light to my soul. I had dialed up my marathon playlist on the drive home the night before, and took it along as company on my run.

A song came on the playlist, "Swim" by Jack's Mannequin. I actually found this song when the artist performed on the Daily Show of all places. The singer/songwriter described how the song came out of his battle with cancer. The song grabbed me then, and I think the live version was even better than the studio version I found later.

Songs and poems are usually left to our own interpretation, and we tend to tailor them to our own lives. Even though I knew the story behind this song, I think it speaks to other things as well. I find that the lyrics and the spirit of the song lends itself to any sort of struggle, and as I ran that morning, it spoke to me about the battle against depression.

Christmastime is still one of the most wonderful times of the year. It is a time to celebrate with the ones you love, family, friends and everything in between. It doesn't always live up to the hype, but there is still a little magic each year. It is warmth in a cold time of year, a realization that there is much more light than dark, and a reminder of how truly blessed I am.

Even though I stumble now and then, I find the horizon, and realize it's not as far as I think.

You've gotta swim
Swim for your life
Swim for the music
That saves you
When you're not so sure you'll survive
You gotta swim
And swim when it hurts
The whole world is watching
You haven't come this far
To fall off the earth
The currents will pull you
Away from your love
Just keep your head above

I found a tidal wave
Begging to tear down the dawn
Memories like bullets
They fired at me from a gun
A crack in the armor
I swim to brighter days
Despite the absence of sun
Choking on salt water
I'm not giving in
I swim

You gotta swim
Through nights that won't end
Swim for your families
Your lovers your sisters
And brothers and friends
Yeah you've gotta swim
Through wars without cause
Swim for the lost politicians
Who don't see their greed as a flaw

The currents will pull us
Away from our love
Just keep your head above

I found a tidal wave
Begging to tear down the dawn
Memories like bullets
They fired at me from a gun
Cracking me open now
I swim for brighter days
Despite the absence of sun
Choking on salt water
I'm not giving in
Well I'm not giving in
I swim

You gotta swim
Swim in the dark
There's no shame in drifting
Feel the tide shifting and wait for the spark
Yeah you've gotta swim
Don't let yourself sink
Just find the horizon
I promise you it's not as far as you think
The currents will drag us away from our love
Just keep your head above
Just keep your head above
Swim
Just keep your head above
Swim, swim
Just keep your head above
Swim

Pictures

Unpacking has gone slowly, strung out now over several months. The first week was a rush of getting the necessary things situated, but after the kitchen, clothing, bedding and other furniture found their new places, things slowed dramatically. I went through the odd box now and then, mostly to thin things out, but I didn't do much of anything that would be considered decorating. It was probably a combination of things, but now that I had this new place, I sort of hesitated to make it "mine".

Naturally, part of it was because much of those things stored away were from a house shared with another. Each item had a certain not-so-ephemeral emotion memory attached to it. I sorted out the things that had little or too much attached, and put away the stuff in the middle. Boxes began to disappear, but nothing really came out.

When I hosted a couple of friends for book club a few months ago, I finally threw three or four prints on the wall so it would look like someone actually lived here. Outside of the painting of Sierra that Holly gave me, the few things didn't really reflect anyone in particular. Someone lived here, but it wasn't clear who.

I made plans to print out some of the ten years of digital photos, to get them out of their sad purgatory of being stored away in bits and bytes, never to be seen. It is no way for a photo to live. I spent an evening a while back copying some into a "to print" folder, but the size of the task was somewhat overwhelming. Like many of those boxes, the computer folders held memories of their own, and I set aside the project to be worked on later.

I invited my parents over for dinner this past Saturday. They had offered dinner at their place, but I wanted them to come over for a couple of reasons. I wanted them to see the Christmas tree I had put up, the first in a few years. That was its own adventure in memory mining, but I am really glad I did it. I did it for myself, but I sort of wanted someone else to see it, to make it real and share in the Christmas traditions. The other reason I invited them over was to kick myself in the butt to get the place looking like something beyond a faceless (messy) hotel room.

Friday, I opened that neglected "to print" folder and spent several hours adding to it, digging through pictures over the last few years. Even staying away from most of the stuff before 2009, the folder was soon overflowing and I had to start picking and choosing memories all over again. The looming dinner deadline fortunately cut short the time to second guess. By evening I had most of the prints in frames and had a few on the walls. It eventually grew too late to be hammering nails into shared walls, but even before I quit I know I wanted to get more photos printed.

Saturday I finished round one, then made another trip to Kohl's for 60% off frames, and to Costco for prints in under two hours. I split the afternoon between hanging pictures, prepping dinner and cleaning up after both projects. I finished up a half hour before they arrived. I actually fell three nails short of finishing, but in a little more than a day I went from no photos on the walls to fifty-six (yes I just counted).

For a while I hesitated to put anything on the walls. It is an apartment, a rental after all, so was it worth sinking nails into the walls? It was the same in San Diego. I wasn't sure how long I would be there, so it sort of felt like the walls should match that uncertainty. I was staying with friends, so the living situation seemed even more temporary, but eventually pictures went up and it felt more like home. I don't know why it took months to remember that lesson, or to realize that even though I am renting, I may be here long term. With lots of pictures up, it now it feels more like home, more like me.

Another lesson learned and remembered is that making lighter connections does not make it any easier to move on. It doesn't spare the pain of leaving some place or someone. You might as well risk sinking some anchors in. You can almost always patch the holes if you have to.

We ended up having a lovely evening. The pictures led to stories old and new, as did the ornaments on the tree. Home can be anywhere I suppose, but it has to be something you create and carve out. The welcoming in of someone to share in it seems to complete the picture.