The Holidays are Cancelled

Put down the pumpkin so we can talk about this like reasonable adults.

I do not regret to inform you that the “holidays” are cancelled this year.

”Christina, is this because the spooky season display at Target sent you into an existential crisis?” you’re probably asking. And the short answer is: Yes.

The succession of HalloweenThanksgivingHanukkahChristmasNewYears kicks time into fast forward. Personally, I’ve already hit my annual limit of times I can say, “WHAT it’s [month/day of week/millennia] already?!” The other day I signed like six documents with a date in May. It’s September. If time goes by any faster, I’m going to need to start saving up for my second face lift.

My theory is that we’ve been functioning despite the constant hum of pandemic fear for so long, that we aren’t even fully aware of it anymore. It’s like when you spend your whole day in a room with a clock and your brain blocks out the tick-tick-ticking. Our brains are sticking fingers in their ears and yelling, “LA LA LA TIME I CAN’T HEAR YOU.” So when time passes, it comes as an unwelcome surprise.

We’re tired.

You probably don’t even realize how tired you are because of all the work you’re doing to not be tired. All the pushing through you’re doing. All of the days you insist you’re going to relax, but instead find yourself laying on the couch wondering why you’re so tired when all you’ve been doing is laying on the couch.

Most people I know can’t muster up the energy to have fun. We meet up for movie night, but end up discussing our various mental illnesses, comparing brain medications, and examining all the ways childhood trauma is like the teeniest Russian doll nested inside of all the sad things that have ever happened in our lives. That’s scary enough that we can nix Halloween, just this once. Right?

In the past, the holiday season got a little stressful, sure, but the stress looked more like, “I hope I don’t get trampled buying a Tickle Me Elmo,” or, “Why did I book a red-eye for Christmas Eve?” I’m sure the existential dread was there, under the Charlie Brown piano theme, but these days it’s bubbling dangerously close to the surface. Celebrating the same ol’ things we’ve always been obligated to celebrate feels insulting to our collective grief.

So, as a person writing on the internet, I must insist.
Let’s cancel the holidays. Please delete all of them — yes, ALL of them — from your Google calendar. Don’t change the store displays, don’t play the songs. Decorate a pumpkin if you want, I guess. Throw a dinner party, but don’t worry about turkey. If you get invited to a dinner, don’t feel bad if you RSVP “absolutely not.” Call your mom, but call her always.

The only person allowed to carry on as usual is Delilah, the widely syndicated velvet-voiced radio dj and queen of feelings. If you insist on listening to “Jingle Bells,” you have to do it on her terms: slow, jazzy, and dedicated to a widow in New Jersey.