How to cope if you're one racist uncle joke away from smashing a pavlova on the floor. Photo / The Holiday, Youtube.
How to cope if you're one racist uncle joke away from smashing a pavlova on the floor. Photo / The Holiday, Youtube.
When you're a kid, Christmas is the second-best day of the entire year.
(I say second because, obviously, your birthday was number one, because instead of sharing the attention/presents with your siblings/cousins, you got to be the one and only star.)
Lurching out of bed at 5am, sprinting downstairs to the tree, tearing open your presents to discover Santa had come through with a slutty Bratz doll and Crocodile Mile Water Slide, then spending the rest of the day gorging yourself sick on food that you didn't have to cook.
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We're strung out from a hectic year of work. We're probably broke because we frittered all our money away on 500 Lush bathbombs and sheet-masks in the name of self-care, in a desperate attempt to cope with 2020.
If we're in a relationship, we're probably snipping at our partner because their family is driving us up the wall, or they forgot to buy Sellotape, or because they left it until 10pm on Christmas Eve to call us from Sylvia Park to ask what we want for a present – meanwhile you ordered their thoughtful gift off Amazon six months ago. (I honestly lived this.)
If we're single, we're probably emotionally drained and shellshocked from spending the last 12 months dating absolute 5/10s. And feeling even worse thanks to Netflix holiday romcoms and smugly coupled family members asking us if we're seeing anyone special at the moment. (Just the guys who deliver my UberEats and my therapist, thanks for checking in though Grandma.)
Grimmest of all, the older we all get, the more likely it is that we've gone through hardships or lost people we love.
Back when we were kids, we all had 100 grandparents and hardly anything bad had happened to anyone. Or even if it had, we were blissfully unaware because our parents didn't tell us.
For lots of us now, though, Christmas is hard for lots of different reasons.
Take my immediate friend group for example. A few of us have parents who are sick or have died, one of us has no parents at all, and one of us was supposed to be getting married on Christmas Eve until her fiancé dumped her. Awful, right? But this is the case for lots of people. Cause. Life. Is. Really. Hard.
Now by no means do I want to be all Bah Humbug about the holidays, they can be great! But in between the Happily Ever After romcoms and "perfect family" pics plastered all over social media – it's no wonder that lots of people end up on the verge of a nervy b come December 25.
Because the truth is, behind the VCSO Instagram filters I think most people's families are at least a little messy.
Lots of families have lost children or parents. Lots struggle to get enough food on the table or presents under the tree. Lots drink too much and argue too much. Lots try their best to put on a brave face for the kids, but then secretly cry in their bedrooms like Emma Thompson in Love Actually.
As someone who often struggles with Christmas, I've compiled a guide on how to get through the holiday season in one piece – particularly if you've had a tricky year and you're just one throwaway comment from a racist uncle away from smashing a pavlova on the floor.
Look after yourself: Self-medicating isn't self-care
By no means am I telling you to Dry July your way through Bender December if you don't want to – I'm certainly not by any stretch.
Previous years though, I was out nearly every night of the week at every Christmas soiree going – because 'twas the season to party, and the alcohol was free.
Come Christmas Day, however, I was a permanently hungover, depressed little husk.
I stopped going to the gym because it was getting in the way of my partying.
I ate so much drunk Nandos that pure peri-peri sauce ran through my pickled veins.
I spent Christmas Day with (probably vaping-induced) bronchitis, eating sad chicken soup and feeling soz for myself – like heartbroken Kate Winslet in The Holiday.
These days, however, I no longer drink on school nights and instead go to bed every night at 8pm with a tea and a book. I am a namaste, Eat Pray Loving, smug self-caring pug – and I've never felt more zen. Highly recommend.
January through November, it's incredibly rude to cancel plans with people or to decline invitations for absolutely no reason.
December though, I controversially but whole-heartedly encourage this behaviour as a means to survival.
Come December 1, it's like everyone becomes obsessed with meeting up "before Christmas", as if it's the Y2K all over again and we might not make it to Jan 1 – and I don't think our frail little worn-out souls can handle all this socialising.
This year, I have said "no thank you" to every Christmas soiree unless it's on the weekend. I don't care if it's boring or hermitty, I need to rest and I think you probably do too.
This year, if you also feel like you're on the utter brink of running yourself into the ground, I highly recommend becoming a No person. Say No to after-work wines, say No to 500 invites to catch up before Christmas, say No to the hell on earth that is Sylvia Park late night hours. No No No, merry Christmas babes.
Use your Hall Pass
Yup – just like that horrific movie where his long-suffering wife gives him a guilt-free pass for a week to do whatever he wants, you too can be Owen Wilson.
Had a terrible year? Lost someone you loved? Got dumped in a hideous fashion? I got chu, and I'm giving you the right to come and go from your full-on family events according to your needs.
This year, I'm giving you permission to use Colin Firth in Love Actually as your spirit guide.
Remember that scene where he turns up to his family Christmas event and leaves after 10 seconds, and they're all like "we hate Uncle Jamie!" and he's all "IDGAF, bye!".
BE UNCLE JAMIE.
Have an escape plan
Speaking from experience, I wholeheartedly endorse taking your own car to family Christmas events, using Uber or having another back-up plan to get home if you feel a bit emo and need some quiet time.
Every year on Christmas Day I have at least three friends on standby in case I need an SOS, decompressy rosé and a cheeky festive ciggie – and I truly can't recommend this contingency plan enough.
Want to flag the stressful family get together and instead just drink Lindauer with your mates? Do it.
Want to spend the day just with your S/O, sharing a Christmas bucket of KFC and playing Monopoly deal? Do it.
Want to avoid all human contact and just watch the entire series of Friends by yourself while eating a box of Krispy Kremes, in absolute solo heaven? Do it.
You don't have to do what your family has always done for Christmas, you don't have to do what other people are doing for Christmas - Christmas can be whatever you want or need it to be. This year just eat, drink (responsibly) and be kind to yourself.
