There's one question that people ask at this time of year, and it drives me nuts.
“Are you all sorted for Christmas?”
Am I all sorted with Christmas presents for my loved ones? No.
Am I all sorted for the additional mental load of remembering Christmas photoshoots, PJ day, Christmas dinner day and other childcare-related festivities? No.
Am I all sorted for the inevitable burnout when my autistic brain can’t deal with the change in routine? No.
Am I all sorted for the small talk? No.
Am I all sorted to field questions about when I’m having another baby? No.
Am I all sorted for the panicked shopping in the busy shops? No.
Am I all sorted for the family conflicts? No.
It’s safe to say I am not ‘all sorted’ for any of it, but I am going to try and give myself some grace. I always try to live up to the impossible expectations of Christmas, and often, I end up being the one who struggles when I forget to buy a present or don’t feel like hugging a dozen people in a row at a gathering.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a Scrooge…
I do like Christmas.
I just find it hard to meet the societal expectations of the festive season - many of which do, let’s face it, fall on the women to achieve.
Growing up, my mam would put a huge effort into Christmas. She bought and wrapped most of the presents, and I would help her peel and chop the veg for our dinner at my aunty’s. She always attended the nativity, even for my nephew, who lived with us long after I aged out of such activities, and always strived to meet the expectations of this time of the year.
But looking back, I can see how this added pressure would result in problems in other areas. Like me, my mam required routine — and Christmas is a threat to that, bringing about uncertainty and taking away the fixed structures that we rely on.
Add that to an unhealthy relationship with alcohol (one that was likely a coping mechanism — I wrote about this last year; see below); this made up for some pretty terrible Christmases.
Not terrible in the sense that I was hungry or lacking gifts. As a child, I was very privileged; I unwrapped lovely presents, visited grandparents and tucked into a big family dinner.
But in order for all of those boxes to be ticked, we had to pay a price. The price was likely my mam’s sanity, and shortly after the liqueurs were brought out, Dr Jekyll would make his transition to Mr Hyde. The evening of Christmas Day would be the big crescendo following a month or so of stress brewing under the surface as my mam tried to meet the expectations of the day.
Many Christmases, New Year’s and even birthdays would end in huge arguments, with tears shed. Looking back, I would have rather had fewer gifts, less tasty food, a quieter day, but a more relaxed mother. So, that’s what I am going to try and do for my daughter.
I am not going to wait until I am losing my shit to change.
So, I might not go to every Christmas drinks. Or give every single person a hug. Or serve all the right vegetables. Or remember to buy every single distant family member a gift. Instead, I am going to focus on filling my cup and doing the festive activities I do enjoy (watching Christmas films (not Elf, it’s shit), having a mulled wine, catching up with close friends), and when Christmas Day does come, I won’t have any expectations at all. As long as we are all fed and watered, and my daughter opens a gift or two, I’ll be happy.
We went to Edinburgh over the weekend and explored the Christmas market while it was quiet. I also caught up with Michelle of
as we start to plan our big surprise for next year — you’ll have to stay tuned for that one 👀Other things I’ve enjoyed:
📚 Ruth & Pen by Emilie Pine - I loved this novel about two characters who only cross paths once. I was particularly enamoured with the depiction of Pen, an autistic teenager just trying to fit in (relatable).
🎧Fontaines DC - Romance - I just managed to bag a ticket to see the Dublin rockers supported by English Teacher in Newcastle next year.
See you next week,
Ellen x
If you like the audio version of this newsletter, you can listen to them all over on Spotify. Here’s last week’s:
💌 About this email
I’m Ellen, and I write about mental health for the chronically online. I am a freelance copywriter, strategist and web designer, and I work from home with my husband, Craig, at Content By The Sea. We have two rescue greyhounds, Potter and Harmony, and a toddler.
I started this newsletter in March 2020 and have sent over 200(!) emails; currently, I have over 1,200 subscribers. I write about a wide variety of topics, including diet culture, my love of running, jealousy, my life falling apart, mam guilt, and this dystopian world we all live in.
💛 How you can support me
If you like reading my weekly emails, you can give me a kickback in one or more of the following ways:
📨 Share this post
📬 Subscribe for free (if you haven’t already!)
💬 Leave a comment on this newsletter
💰Sign up to be a paid supporter of the newsletter for just £4 a month or £40 a year.
The current perks of being a paid subscriber are receiving one extra Touching Grass email each month with all of my top films, shows, podcasts and books. Most importantly, you are supporting me in continuing to write this newsletter.
My autistic brain is in tune with your autistic brain. Christmas is tough - but we’ll get through it. Perhaps we should have both asked for noise cancelling headphones for Christmas.
THE BIG SURPRISE 👀 excited!
Sorry to hear you had difficult Christmastimes growing up. I've opted out of the family secret santa this year (bah humbug) and we stay home on the day to have a cosy day in together. I'm all about the boundaries for our collective stress levels. I hope you have a good leadup to the day and that you all have lots of time to relax. xx