“And there is a Catskill eagle in some souls, that can alike dive down into the blackest gorges, and soar out of them again and become invisible in the sunny spaces. And even if he forever flies within the gorge, that gorge is in the mountains; so that even in his lowest swoop the mountain eagle is still higher than the other birds upon the plain, even though they soar.“
-Herman Melville, Moby Dick
It’s normal to be bummed out on Christmas–right?
I don’t truly believe that normal exists. As black-and-white as many people have told me I tend to be (or wish I could be?), I believe truly that gray is the color of life. Normal is the gray that most people would fall into when the obviously white and obviously black parts of whatever we’re discussing are thrown out.
In this case, I awoke asking myself this on Christmas morning, and the day after. I asked myself this because of the feelings that surprised me each of the last few mornings.
For me, Christmas has never been the most ideal time of year: my parents didn’t exactly get along, which made the “cheer” of the season seem more of a fascade than a deeply-felt sentiment. Now, there’s no more nuclear family like before. Nor is my sister alive, nor is there anyone to walk the road with in my life at this time. When I awoke each of these past mornings, the Christmases where not all of this was true come back to me, and those memories left more of an ache than a nostalgic warmth. My Christmas memories are like a cold cup of coffee.
As a resident, I also had the honor of back up call on Christmas. It’s like being assigned to a purgatory. I couldn’t go be with family (my mom lives an hour away) because I needed to be near the hospital. But if I’m not needed I won’t get called. At least the in-hospital call person is busy and thus preoccupied with surgery. For me, it was a long day of doing random chores in a quiet house with a pager. Have you ever walked around the house with a pager attached to the elastic of your boxer briefs?
So all day, the curse of too much time kidnapped me into my melancholy world of Christmas relationships past. Bound to the house by the electronics on my underwear elastic, the memories I have of the things I no longer have became my constant companions. As their “plus ones” they brought pessimism, mourning, regret, loneliness, self-doubt, and the fear of all these things being permanent. These guests have been the feelings that commanded my attention this Christmas.
Is that normal? Is the self-analysis that now stems from experiencing these feelings normal?
Then there’s also shame. I’m constantly told how worth it, talented, of valuable I should consider myself, how successful or positive my life’s direction has and will be. It was a shocking place to find myself on the day when one should expect differently in such a desolate place. But how dare I feel this way with “so much going for me?” Regrettably, it felt like a familiar place, making me feel worse. What, do I like spending time bummed out about what most people probably think of as nothing? I find myself thinking, ‘I’m just acting like a spoiled kid who has almost everything but wants even more.’
I don’t want to be here, though, so why am I? I don’t want to blame myself for complaining and feeling down. Maybe it was my upbringing? Maybe all of the things that people value about me are the result of me trying to do things to get myself out of here?
In some ways, the positive affirmation about my “resume” person makes it worse. How is it that I could be and do all these things everyone says are good and would satisfy and bring fulfillment–do and be more than most–and yet not find the “normal” fulfillment and satisfaction? It’s like doing a calculation in your math homework over and over. You know you’re doing every step correctly, yet the result is not what it should be. You’re even being extra neat! Is it something you’re forgetting? Is it some mis-written number you’re over-looking? Or is the answer itself actually wrong? Or are you just dumber than you thought?
The scariest part is that if it’s the last question, how can you ever fix it to get to where you want to be (the right answer)?
It shames me more that people with “less to be happy about” are not in this lonely place. That’s when you really start to ask yourself what’s up. I know I can be wrong, but I’m not in their heads, and everyone seems to be happy or engrossed in the season. Most people have the joy of Christmas all over their face, most people have the people with whom they share their memories close by and doing things to make new memories–the positive ones that out-weight the tougher ones. Most people aren’t struggling to justify their worth, either. (I can’t believe I’m saying this) And in particular some people have a lot more reason to feel the way I do–but they don’t! So why do I?
But maybe if they were stuck in the house alone, in my current job, and having been given the same blessings and challenges I have been given, maybe they, too, would question and suffer a bit. Maybe it’s not normal to be in the situation, but it’s normal to react as I did. But maybe not.
But regardless of that answer, I have to wonder, how do I go beyond the bounds of these feelings? How do I find joy, assurance, optimism, self-forgiveness, self-confidence, and hope that good will be again? I don’t know the answer, because I look at what I’ve tried: doing things, being distracted, meeting new people, etc., and these are the components of a house of cards that often falls when it is leaned upon most. It’s what I am now and none of these things are keeping me out of the hole.
Maybe something internal must be found within during the suffering times. Perhaps it is a choice to forgive myself, a choice to admit defeat and stick with that decision to let failure be, a choice to focus on the present good, and a decision to remind myself of the times before that I felt in the gorge but flew out again. And maybe even forgive myself for feeling bleak when I have so few basic obstacles in my life. Perhaps that is the greatest challenge to the cycle: being angry about feeling low. So I’m sorry I feel low, I’m sorry if I shouldn’t compared to someone else suffering more than I. I feel bad about that, but I want to say that I’m trying. I don’t like not feeling great about how many things go well in my life most of the time. This Christmas, I’m trying to appreciate the gifts and the joys that I’ve had, even if I’m feeling stuck on the few things I didn’t get for Christmas. Maybe it’s not normal to feel this way, but it’s how it’s been and I’m just saying I’m working on it.
