Why I'm Not Putting Up My Gigantic Christmas Tree

The basic answer? I don’t want to.If someone wheeled a beautifully decorated tree into my house, I wouldn’t turn them away.If I woke up to a perfectly decorated Hallmark movie-style house in Vermont, I’d be delighted (and also a little terrified that I’d been robbed/kidnapped.) But because life is not a holiday movie, the job of decorator/mover/organizer falls to me. And this year, I’m putting in my notice.I really do historically love the holidays. I love cheesy Christmas movies, gorgeous, elaborate light displays, and sugar cookies. I love Mariah Carey, tinsel, and coquito. Up until recently, I loved putting up a 7-foot tree with a collection of ornaments that could fill a row or two at Home Goods. Yes, that’s right; 7 feet. I followed in my family’s tradition and bought a synthetic tree for my big girl apartment during the pandemic in 2020. Ever since then, I’ve looked forward to putting it up every year. One year, I even got a bedroom tree for double the Christmas spirit. In addition to the tree(s), I’ve also collected a variety of signs, door hangers, figurines and the like. One of the signs proudly reads ‘This girl loves Christmas.’The thing is, I also love lying horizontal on my couch. I find reality pretty difficult. I find the business of getting out of bed and getting on with the day really hard. I find picking up my phone to be a mammoth fucking struggle. The number on my inbox. The friends who won’t see me anymore. The food pictures and porn videos, the bombings, and beheadings, the moral ambivalence you have to have to just be able to carry on with your day. I find the knowledge that we’re all just atoms and one day we’ll stop and be dirt in the ground, I find that overwhelmingly disappointing. -People, Places & Things by Duncan Macmillan (A Play)I, too, find reality pretty difficult. When I first saw this play at 21, I never would have admitted that, even though that’s been true since I took frequently naps in the nurse’s office in high school, and secretly got excited when the kids in my elementary school tennis camp got us all in trouble (because it meant that we would have a time out aka quiet time to sit and do nothing in an air conditioned gymnasium in New York in July.) The monologue is delivered by the play’s protagonist, Emma, who is in and out of rehab for drug and alcohol addiction throughout the play. At 21, I don’t think I was consciously afraid of developing an addiction — but I also certainly never thought that it could happen to me. And perhaps that unconscious thought kept me from relating to this monologue and character as strongly as I do now. There’s a human temptation to mentally distance ourselves from those with different life circumstances than ours. If we tell ourselves we can’t relate to someone, then we can rationalize that we won’t end up in their shoes.At 30, I’m no longer trying to distance myself from people who are “different” than me — because I am acutely aware that my life could have ended up a million different ways if just the slightest thing had gone a different way, throughout the course of my life, or anyone else’s in my family. I absolutely understand the lure of self-medicating with drugs and alcohol. I absolutely understand that most of us find reality pretty difficult, and that we are all exhausted. Like, ‘I have to hype myself up to stand in the shower,’ exhausted. And, ‘How long have those dishes been in the sink?’ exhausted. And, ‘Did I always sweat this much huffing and puffing down subway steps when I’m late?’ exhausted.Why is she making us read about how tired she is? I’m tired too. We’re all tired. Maybe that’s what you’re thinking right now. How tired can she be? Isn’t she like, 30? Or maybe that.Damn. No wonder she can’t find the energy to put up a Christmas tree.If that’s what you’re thinking — bingo, you’re the winner. I’m too tired to put up my Christmas tree, and I have been feeling guilty about it for weeks. I usually put it up on November 1st. Yes, I’m that kind of Christmas girl. I really love Christmas! Well, the holiday season. Well, parts of the holiday season.But this year has been different. This year, I feel a little less spirited and a little less myself. And while I’m sure my therapist and I will keep digging into why that is, and why that’s so normal, and why it might be time to up my lexapro — I am not forcing my exhausted little 5”3 self to put up a 7ft tree, and I feel great about it.I’m “bigger than my body gives me credit for,” but sometimes my body just wants to mesh into the couch/bed and watch archives of the Obama era on YouTube and eat a burger from Shake Shack and then make a milkshake with Trader Joe’s pumpkin ice cream and Bailey’s. Don’t get me wrong - I’m still going to do other festive things. I’ve already been to a holiday party. I’m going to a 7 Fishes feast this weekend. I put together a very fun little make-shift holiday display in front of my TV, and strung some lights that usually go on the tree on my bookshelf. There is still (unconventional) brightness and cheer in my apartment and in my life.But there’s exhaustion too. There’s room for that under the (nonexistent) tree, too.What has been bringing me a lot of joy this year is helping others. I put together a Thanksgiving gift bag for an unhoused neighbor, with some clothes, a warm blanket, a slice of pumpkin pie, some assorted toiletries, and a note on where they can receive more support. I’ve donated maybe 8 bags of clothing/bedding/bags/winter wear, and there is definitely more to come. Being able to make a small impact in the lives of others, even when I’m feeling down myself, is incredibly fulfilling — and more important than ever. On that note, I’ll end by mentioning that my heart has been with the families who lost their homes to the LA Wildfires this year. I can only imagine what a first Christmas in a new home without your familiar surroundings and precious family items feels like. Some of my favorite ornaments were severely damaged and/or ruined by leaky pipes in my storage room. This loss is not at all comparable - but I’m entitled to my sadness, and my ability to feel that sadness actually expands my empathy for those facing greater losses. I wrote more about this below. Click through for the full thread.Speaking of threads… we’re not alone in the December exhaustion. Some other reasons I know we’re not alone?* At 7:08am on 12/3 ‘how to not lose my shit’ was at peak popularity on Google* Just 12 hours later? “Holiday burnout”* Elf on the Shelf is also growing in popularity. If this is you, my condolences and good luck.It’s okay if the holidays look different this year. It’s okay if you skip certain traditions or start new ones. It’s okay if things that used to excite you just don’t spark as much joy this year. It’s okay if it feels like the holidays are something to survive. And if you’re reading this, you’re surviving and doing a great job at that.If you ever want a little extra solidarity, support, or just a laugh when it’s all feeling absurd, I’ve got you covered inside the Holiday Survival Kit. With love, light, exhaustion, and chaos,AlexaPS Another popular search lately has been “gifts for adult kids,” and I’ve got you covered there, too. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe