Go Away, I Hate Christmas, or A Depressed Autistic's Christmas

Hi folks.  I'm going to talk about why, in years past, I've really hated Christmas.  Not the religious bit, Jesus being born, hymns of celebration, lighting candles and reading from the Bible etc.  It's the commercial aspects that got my ire: the commercialized and social aspects, the "Christmas cheer," the getting together with family, the decorations, the pop music.  If this sort of discussion offends you and your Christmas happiness, then please, by all means, stop reading and keep your happiness bubble intact.

Okay?  All right, cool.

Christmas, as a non-religious concept, made my life miserable for about ten years.

I have never, in my entire memory, had anything resembling Christmas cheer, or the generally goodwill and happiness that accompanies the Christmas season.  Classic Christmas music (not including Christmas carols and hymns) serves only, as a rule, to make me crabby.

Why?  Well...

Be Cheerful!  (NO)

I am not, innately, a cheerful person.  I was a very serious, possibly depressed child, and I grew up into a slightly less-serious adult with a lifelong depressive disorder.  This does not lend itself well to actual cheer when told to "cheer up."  It's been a pet peeve of mine for awhile.  You cannot, literally can not, make someone cheer up by telling them to.  You can't magically transmit a thought-virus of cheer.  Sorry.  Telling me to cheer up has, historically, made me extremely annoyed.  

So, all this Christmas music, which sings about the merits of the season and how it's all so wonderful and put you in a good mood to shop... or whatever else...  sounds, to me, like it's insisting I be cheerful.  If I'm literally not capable of being cheerful, but constantly told to be cheerful anyway, of course I'm going to end up grumpier.  I can't even shout back at the music that I'm depressed, and leave me alone already thanks!

This actually wasn't as huge a problem when I was little, but starting around age 15, I recognized that society was essentially telling me it wasn't okay to be depressed, and I spent the next ten years resenting that. 

Travel

Secondly, Christmas in my family has historically always involved a lot of travel.  Pretty much all my family has always been at least 12 hours by car away, but rarely, if ever, has it been an option to simply stay in our own home and celebrate quietly.  

So there's the bustle of packing, and the stressing about presents for relatives I didn't know that well, and the inevitable forgetting of at least one important thing...  We'd pile into the car, my mother would zoom about doing last minute things while my father groused, and then we'd drive for upwards of 12 hours in a single day.  

When I was very little, it was more like 20 hours in the car, and my father would be very crabby by the end of it.  In his defense, I don't think anyone really likes driving 20 hours with two reluctant children in the back seat.  

Strangers in a Strange Land

 

The culmination of all this travel was getting to distant family's houses.  Unfamiliar, often colder than I would have liked, far from the comforts and familiarity of my own home.  Normally when growing up, I'd have my nose in a book.  But my book selection was pretty limited, away from the bookshelves of home, so I had what I brought with me, and... that was it. 

Then, the place was full of people I was required to sit and be social with, but barely knew anything about, and if we're being honest, didn't overmuch know about me, either.  Autistic people often have a hard time with faces and I wasn't an exception.  Every year I made a wishlist, and generally speaking, anyone outside my family had no clue it was a thing, or ignored it entirely.  

I was required to sit at the dinner table and make conversation, despite being bad at it, not wanting to do it, and wishing I was anywhere else.  While I recognize this is a staple of modern society, I somehow don't think my sullen expression did any conversation any favors, ever.  

So in the end most Christmases involved me feeling alienated, incredibly uncomfortable, and set-upon.  

Well Aren't You A Bundle of Sunshine?

Yeah, I know.  But hey, good news.  Notice how a lot of this entry is phrased in the past tense?  That's because I stopped being quite so depressed around Christmas as of a couple years ago.  I presume some of my depression has abated and I've adjusted to having to entirely drop my comforts once a year for the sake of family I barely know.  I've also improved at table conversation, and presumably at being polite without being sullen.

I still love my family, even the ones I don't see very often, as I did when I was little. I'm just better at expressing it in terms they understand now.