Holiday Blues

I wish I knew what in the hell was wrong with me.

As far back as I can remember, I've gotten horribly depressed around Christmas. My mother usually made us clean house, as soon as the Christmas presents had been opened. Plus, she never really liked the gifts that we gave her. If we knew she wanted a bathrobe and we got her one, she'd say "Oh - I really wanted one with a zipper, instead of a belt" or something like that. There was always something wrong with whatever gift we got her. Mom sent Linda a box a few years ago, filled with all of the gifts Linda had sent her over the years. Unopened boxes. Mother never used Linda's gifts. I gave up giving her anything, years ago.

Despite these same memories, though, both of my sisters still like Christmas. Linda loves sending presents and Lisa loves playing Christmas music and giving cards to her co-workers. Not me. I shut down, become moody and cranky and cry a lot. This year is even worse. I'm off of "the feed". Off of antidepressants, fully, for the first Christmas in about 20 years, I think. My decent into the doldrums seems more dramatic this year.

What I don't understand is why I feel worse, after I've been shown love, caring and kindness.

Tonight, my very good friends, a gay couple named Don and Doug, took me out to a wonderful dinner. Then, they bought us tickets to see a local dance school's annual Holiday production of The Steadfast Tin Soldier. Afterward, we went out for mochas and desert. When I finally got into my car to leave, my battery was dead. Don and Doug made no fuss and just pulled out their jumper cables to get my car started. All of this, in the pouring rain. I felt loved. And then, I had to drive around for a half hour, charging my car back up.

I decided to drive around the North end neighborhoods, looking at lights. There were a lot of decorated homes. My favorite house was fully ablaze, with a giant blue star of David atop a myriad of multi-colored lights covering every square inch of property. I was listening to Gino's Nightwalker album. Good music, nice scenery and a full tank of gas. A pleasant drive. The rain was coming down in sheets but I was safe, warm and dry inside the car.

Once I got back home, though, I started feeling sadder and sadder. Was I blue because my evening was over? Because I was alone (even though the dogs were more than happy to see me return)? Earlier in the evening, I shed a few tears during the ballet performance. Seeing all of those sweet children in their beautiful costumes filled me with a feeling I have never had before. A maternal urge. My heart went out to those kids. I realized how hard they had all worked to make such a wonderful show and wished I had one of my own, to hug, after the performance! After the show, Don, Doug and I walked through the throngs of families looking for their friends. As I was passing the kids, I wanted to tell them all how great they did. But, they were all scanning the crowd for their own families and friends. I said nothing. I didn't want to be the creepy lady paying unwanted attention to strange children.

I remembered being in choirs and plays in high school and looking for my mom when the show was over. She came to all the shows. She even came to all of those ponderous, never-ending choir concerts we were in twice a year. She took photos (with her little pocket Instamatic )during her daughters' solos. She may have sucked at Christmas, but she always showed up for the shows. And, mom would always let us go off with our friends, afterward, to get pizza. She was good that way.

Maybe I'm finally ready to be on the other end of those shows. It has taken me nearly 50 years to get to this point. I'm sick of being alone. I want to share my life with somebody else and have my own family.

Maybe that is why I'm sad tonight.