Dearly Bipolar, When it doesn't feel like "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year"
How can wonder and pain co-exist?
Raise your hand if you’ve ever wanted to quit Christmas? The thought of pulling the covers over your head and saying wake me when it’s all over ever cross your mind? We may not want to admit it’s true, but I will be the first to raise my hand and say the thought has crossed my mind numerous times over the years.
The truth is, I don’t miraculously wake up in December with an extra measure of capacity, but it can seem that is what December requires. An abundance of expectations. It can feel like this time of year pulls out a highlighter and circles all my weakest areas saying, see look she’s not enough, she doesn’t have enough.
I know it’s supposed to be “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year”, but for those of us who live with a mental illness, or who are grieving loss, or both at the same time, this can be one of the most painful times of the year. It’s not that we don’t want the wonderful, but how can the wonder and the pain co-exist? How can I be depressed at Christmas?
How can I be depressed at Christmas?
What if the Christmas season looked more like a snow day. I mean the kind of day that comes when you least expect it, takes you by surprise, and invites you to take a load off. There are no plans made in advance, just living in the moment. Snow days are about play, not performing. It's snow hair don't care, pjs all day, and an endless supply of hot cocoa. No fancy meals, just getting creative with whatever we already have. Cuddling up on the couch watching movies. Gathering around the table to play games. And there's just something about that blanket of white that says hush, I've got you.
What if the Christmas season looked more like a snow day.
A dear friend who has been walking with grief asked me recently, what helps me when I am feeling depressed, unmotivated, and like I’ve lost all my momentum?
I wanted to just sit with them, and for them to feel seen. I personally know the value of someone offering their presence, and simply being with me. Also, I hesitate to give an answer to this question, as it is so unique and individual to each person. I thanked them for sharing and said how much I relate with what they are feeling. I was so proud of them for saying it out loud, acknowledging how they are feeling in community. There is so much power in that alone.
A few things I shared1 . . .
Take time to acknowledge your feelings
-pull out your journal and write what you are feeling,
even if the only words are “I feel depressed”
Share your feelings with someone you trust
-let the people who care about you know where you are
-advocate for yourself by sharing how they can support you
Listen to your body
-what is it saying?
-what does it need?
-it may be you need more sleep this time of year and that is ok
Lean into nourishment and rest
-find ways to nourish your body
-pour into you, take care of you, put the oxygen mask on yourself first
-rest could be reading a book, taking a nap, coloring, watching your favorite show
Remove expectations and self-made agendas
-look at your calendar, make room for what you need
-decide what your brave yes’s and confident no’s will be
Keeping in mind how our grief can often mimic symptoms of depression. So even more the importance of being kind and gentle with ourselves. Allowing ourselves to remember loved ones we have lost, and dreams that may look a bit different now.
I also reminded my friend that they won’t feel this way forever. That although the symptoms they are experiencing feel all consuming right now, they are not who they are.
You are not the sum total of your symptoms. You are a human being worthy of love.
Above all, the practice of turning toward yourself in love, embracing and accepting yourself right where you are is so important. No judgement. This can be one of the hardest things to do. A little self-compassion goes a long way. <3
If you are feeling any of the above, please consider sharing where you are with someone you trust. If this isn’t something you are used to doing, it may feel awkward and uncomfortable at first. Speaking from my own experience, it is worth pushing through those feelings to find the acceptance, love, and support you need.
Or you may have someone in your life that recently has become more quiet, withdrawn, and has been less likely to reach out. Consider extending love by offering them a safe space to be themselves. This could look like going for a walk, meeting for coffee, sitting on their couch in your pjs, or a phone call. Remember, your presence matters. Presence can be just as impactful if not more so than words.
Remember, your presence matters.
What if we approached this time of year more like a snow day for our mental wellness, instead of putting so much pressure on ourselves to perform. Maybe in seeing the month of December differently, we can carve out the time and space for what we really need. Allowing room for depression and Christmas to co-exist, and inviting wonder to sit with us in our pain.
Lastly, a note to December. Because apparently I am even empathic to the months of the year. : )
Dear December,
This is where I give you the “It’s not you, it’s me” speech, and end it with “Can we still be friends??”
Given different circumstances, I believe we would get along just fine. I think it’s the mentality of our society and the burdens we choose to lay upon ourselves that is the problem.
The often suffocating frenzy of activity that is not welcoming to our grief or our mental wellbeing.
Thank you December for what you really are. An invitation to pause, to slow down, to remember.
Your friend,
Amy
It’s okay if it doesn’t feel like the most wonderful time of the year.
You are here, and that is what matters.
You are not alone.
These are not a prescription or advice, just some practices that help support me when I am feeling lonely, sad, overwhelmed, depressed, filled with grief…



I literally wish to quit Christmas every year at least once! And I get the desire to pull my covers over my head and skip whatever it is that’s coming up pretty often… Thanks for putting words to these feelings, and thank you for the practical ideas for walking gently on days like those. Love you!
This is beautiful and so helpful. Thank you, Amy!