12 ways I protected my mental health in December
photo credit eyedostudios
One year ago, tears streamed onto the massage table as I shared the misery I felt during the 2024 holiday season. I vowed not to repeat that funk in December 2025.
I first explored options to go away but Christmas hoopla knows no geographic bounds; I wasn’t sure how it would be to feel low somewhere else so I decided to stay put.
Instead, I approached the season with caution. I’m proud I made decisions to get me through unscathed. If, like me, you find December tough, then some of these ideas may help you next year.
First a word on why the holidays are difficult for me. It would be easy to say it’s the result of my widowhood, now seven years old, and the memory of holidays past. That’s part of it, but not all.
For my whole adult life, I’ve struggled to find the meaning others seem to get out of the holidays. Christmases with my parents were awkward, forced events, inspired neither by the faith of Jesus Christ nor the consumerism of Santa. That left Scrooge or the Grinch as my guide, but I haven’t yet enjoyed the transformative power of a bunch of ghosts or Sally Who. We got through those family events by playing music together and eating a decent turkey dinner. And CBC radio. Always.
Starting twenty-five years ago and until I met Jack, I dodged Chandler Christmas visiting a friend who for many years lived out of the country. I found comfort being away from the pressure to be someone I’ll never be in a Rockwellesque family we weren’t. Since Jack, I haven’t found anything to fill the gap.
So what did I do this year? Read on!
Set December as a time to host a few people for meals. Planning and producing meals for company puts me into a happy place. This year, by mid November, I had six gatherings in my December calendar, incorporating a wide range of people: one I’ve known since elementary school; a group of neighbour women I’ve befriended this year; the women I profiled in the Lane Changer series; a couple I met in grad school; and several others. Deciding whom to invite, scheduling, making my small space accommodate others, and preparing food gave structure to my days and a sense of purpose. Having deep conversations with small groups of well-selected guests gave me the social contact I needed. I did accept a few social invites elsewhere but only those where I felt I’d get conversations to help, not harm, my mental health.
When my low-key out of town NYE dinner plan fell apart because of unpredictable weather, I ignored the event completely.
Reduced my consumption of social media happiness campaigns that begin about the 24th and extend through to Jan 1.
Gave my house a festive air by putting up my small tree decorated meaningfully; stringing white lights up the staircase; and playing Handel’s Messiah, choral carols, and other CDs from my 30 year old collection.
Sent Christmas cards to share good feelings with like-minded people and to ensure I received some back. The sending and receiving made me feel part of a broader community.
Saw my therapist mid-month to bolster positive feelings and explore and vent the negative ones.
Continued the scaled back alcohol intake I’ve maintained since last January. I also made sure I stocked good food, but tried not to overdo its consumption either.
Walked at least 7 kms a day until the river trail became too icy. Then I turned to yoga, which I practised for an hour every morning for the last week, something I plan to maintain when work allows.
Booked a February trip to the west coast where I will visit with relatives and friends, reconnect with the Victoria vibe, and then deliver a workshop, helping to offset the expense. Having something to look forward to always helps me get through tougher times.
Watched no holiday shows or movies. Instead, I attended a play, Rogers v Rogers, that skewers Canada’s moneyed class in an engaging a satirical way, the perfect antidote to the saccharine offerings and inescapable commercialism of December.
Took two full weeks off work. For decades, I volunteered to work over the holidays, providing a distraction from and a justification for not having a fabulous time. Not working, though, allowed me to protect myself better from the craziness of the season.
Finally, I set myself an ambitious December writing target — to complete a very rough first draft of my book, Lane Change, about reinventing my life and moving into my custom laneway house. By the end of today, Sunday, January 4, I will have 65,000 words put into an order that roughly makes sense. The clay is on the wheel — bring on the shaping in 2026!
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