The weeks of late December leading into the holiday break are the most fulfilling times of the year, as they give me a rare sense of purpose and direction in life. No matter how many final exams I’ve bombed or how many issues I have in my nonexistent love life, all is well when I hear familiar Christmas jingles and see festive colors everywhere I go.
That is, until Dec. 26 hits. Followed by Dec. 27. And soon after New Year’s Day is the last punch in the gut before I realize too soon that Christmas isn’t an eternal holiday.
The day after Christmas usually begins with waking up at a mediocre time of day: 10 a.m. On any given day before Christmas, this would be a “comfortable” wake-up time, but now it’s only a glum reminder of a missed breakfast and a lunch that will come too soon. Sure, I’m still on holiday break, but the cold biting my toes and the fuzzy Santa pajamas hugging my legs just don’t feel the same. Life feels normal again, which is not a good thing.
Post-Christmas duties begin with cleaning out the fridge of all holiday leftovers. Lunch and dinner always include roasted chicken, Costco pumpkin pie and homemade cranberry sauce that is much too sour. Nothing tastes nearly as good as it did 8 hours ago, not even the cinnamon desserts that once filled me with gleeful ecstasy.
Any extra Trader Joe’s chocolate advent calendars become public property, and my two younger brothers casually pop out four or five chocolates per day. I personally prefer gobbling up the remaining Ferrero Rocher hazelnut chocolate balls — a staple of the gift-giving season — but I always feel a twinge of disappointment when the dopamine hit isn’t as high as I expected.
Then comes the tedious task of removing the Christmas lights on our house. I find it to be the most depressing declaration of the holiday’s end. Even though it’s inevitable, I want to sob every time I see our whole street take down their glittering reindeers and human-sized flashing candy canes.
When the final days of holiday break rolls around, the stress of school resuming suddenly lurches toward me again. Teachers seem to frantically pop out one Canvas grade after the next and I feel the urge to get ahead in my classes and catch up on the billion tasks that I put aside to enjoy Christmas. Sadly, once the holidays are over, there is no excuse protecting me from my responsibilities.
Every year, Christmas feels like a fever dream. The holiday’s intense warmth springs up for only a few days when I spend time with family and friends, laughing and eating barbeque or hotpot together while time stands to the side, still and unbroken. Then the coziness subsides and I wake up alone, trying to drown out the mundane ticking of the clock.
It usually takes me a couple of weeks to navigate out of post-Christmas depression. The first few days back at school are difficult, but my reminiscing quickly gets lost in the whirlwind of busywork that life tosses my way. Time can truly heal all wounds — even the gashes on my heart from missing the warmth of Christmas.
In a way, Christmas is like an ex that I can’t get over. Each year I have to learn how to let them go, but at least it’s easier knowing that they’ll come back to me next year.
