Time to Breathe

I nearly cried at work today. 

The unexpected thoughtfulness of my Medical Director nearly undid me. He handed me some Christmas cheer made by his own hand and it was a reminder of why this time of year is so special.

I suppose it nearly made me cry because I was feeling (for a plethora of reasons) quite anxious about Christmas this year. 

I was reflecting on why I felt this and thought part of the problem is what we've made it in to. There are good and happy things about Christmas, but then we turn them into a THING - a thing that we must do. A bar we need to reach. A race we need to run. A competition with ourselves and others - something that requires us to up our game year over year. I hear a lot of people saying they are going to simplify Christmas and yet their simplified Christmas amounts to buying a few less gifts and baking only 6 different kinds of cookies instead of 10. 

And it's not just the gifts (which, lets be truthful - no one really needs and many don't even want). It's not just the decorations or entertaining or baking or food or events...it's also this family thing. The work and the noise and the planning and the shopping (Seriously, I get violent when I hear Boney M's Christmas album and Mariah Carey is getting on my very last nerve. Yeah, the myriad of stultifying renditions of 'Joy to the World' or 'Silver Bells' is one day going to break my grip on civility and be the start of a complete mental break.) 

Then there's the obligations. The obligation to give. Invite. Help. The charities all come out of the woodwork at Christmas. My mailbox is stuffed full of...hmmm...Christmas cards from loved ones? Uh, no...asks for money. I'm not disparaging the work or the need for charitable funds, but in a month that is already chock full - no, over full - with additional expenses, now we guiltily look at the fistfuls of pleas - from otherwise worthy charities - and realize you just can't help everybody. We are gently (but guiltily) reminded that this is a time of the year to spread good cheer, or remember a lonely soul because if you don't, who will?  It's the number one season for suicide after all. (That's actually a myth, the highest rates are spring or summer according to several studies and the CDC). 

Yeah - we've turned Christmas into a THING.  

And me, having had my share of great Christmas' and horrible ones, have found myself in this first week of December feeling anxiety. And much of that anxiety is about the THING that is staring down at me. Do I have people over for a turkey dinner this year? Plan an party with a few friends or acquaintances? Find some Christmas productions to attend...you know...so I feel festive? Who do I buy gifts for this year? And how many? What kind? An annual newsletter and Christmas cards are nattering at me. And yes, I need to do my Christmas baking. There are actual people who don't know what a Snickerdoodle is and that is tragic and I need to do something about it! I need to make sure everyone feels a touch of appreciation from me. A gesture of peace on earth and goodwill to men. 

A co-worker read me an article the other day - about how at this time of year, nature is in sleep mode. It rests. And yet, we are the only species during this time that sleeps less, eats more, and expends more energy. It reminded of that one moment in my Dale Carnegie class where I learned a very valuable lesson to curb stress. Rest before you get tired. For real. Gauge the upcoming expenditures on your energy and mitigate them by resting BEFORE you exert yourself. In other words, don't just reserve your energy, but store it up. Take the time to fill yourself. Don't deplete yourself. 

And maybe that's why I'm feeling such anxiety this December. My stores are already completely depleted. I'm on week 2 of a cold and phlegm extravaganza, and it's been an indescribably busy fall; there are unspoken stresses and heartaches that have piled up.

So, I'm sitting here tonight, trying to peel away the layers of this THING to identify what I really want. What I really need. And while I do it, I'm sitting by the fire, Christmas tree lights on, soft candlelight, a cold Cosmo martini, and the mellow rock station on in the background (Stevie Nicks...you sister, are a soul-soothing songstress) and I can already feel myself filling up a little bit. My perspective changing. My heart rate is slowing and I'm starting to breathe again. Ah...oxygen...I've missed you of late. The anxiety, stress, and worry get suffocating. I can feel a small breath followed by another seeping into my lungs.

"Breath of heaven
Hold me together

Be forever near me

Breath of heaven

Breath of heaven

Lighten my darkness

Pour over me your holiness

For you are holy

Breath of heaven"

Yeah. Christmas is not this THING. It's not.

It was and is the Breath of Heaven. It's about release. From all that bears down on us. A second chance. From every failure and heartache. It's the time when the world took a collective breath. A sigh of relief. Exhaling despair and breathing in hope. 

And that right there is the crux of it. There's a lot of despair to exhale. And a lot of hope to breathe deep into. To fill my lungs with. And how do I exchange that despair for hope when I am constantly breathless. Running, doing, obsessing, planning - lungs aching and cramping; screaming for a pause. A respite.

So maybe that's what my Christmas will be this year. A time to step away. Breathe. Exhale the stresses, heartaches, and failures that have piled up then breathe deep the small mercies that I've been graced with.  

Breath of Heaven written by Amy Grant    Quote: Mandy Hale