There. I said it. I actually said it out loud last night to a couple people, threatening to make it the title of this week’s post. They nodded their heads, understanding what I was getting at.
For those who seem obsessed with calling Christmas a pagan celebration since we appropriated Saturnalia back in the day and since Jesus probably wasn’t actually born on December 25, I say … whatever. I’m not suggesting we cancel Christmas. I’m suggesting we crank down the expectations and the running around like chickens with our heads cut off.
I generally spend the month of December exhausted and in pain.
“Oh Jenn, you’re exaggerating.”
Am I?
I’m trying. They’re not rose-colored, but I do own Christmas reading glasses. Thank you, Hobby Lobby half price sale.
You may have noted the lovely decoration on my hand. While it may be a fashion statement, it’s not a fashion statement. And no, I don’t want to talk about it or answer fifty million questions from anyone who is not part of my medical team or someone who suffers from the same rare disorder. You don’t know. You don’t get to have an opinion. You don’t get to make me figuratively roll my eyes all the way to the back of my head while I politely listen to whatever voodoo treatment you are sure will cure me from an incurable congenital physical deformity.
I read yet another article this week about the things people say to those with chronic health issues. Often thoughtless things that discount the severity of their reality. Things that sound like they’re questioning whether the person is even sick. All because they “look fine”.
I am a high capacity individual. I’m not as high capacity as I used to be. I’m okay with that. Everyone else can get with the program.
I don’t know why we have to insist that everything is fine and should always stay the way it has always been. With an extra dose of more. Life is pretty good, and I’m as Pollyanna-ish as the next person person – probably more – but guess what? Sometimes everything is not fine and sometimes things change.
Today I reached my capacity for negativity and closed the complaint department. While I realize the irony of complaining about complaining, this is my little corner of the interwebs, so my rules rule. Have you seen any memes saying something like, “What if instead of complaining, we were just grateful for everything?” or challenging the reader to spend an entire day not complaining even once. No? Then maybe you need to curate your newsfeed better.
Time and energy spent complaining robs me of time and energy to spend on important tasks and experiences.
Speaking of which, I need to finish writing a Christmas card to be delivered with a thirteen-year-old’s gift tonight.
Less is more, friends.
Jesus is enough.
