I just returned from Tulsa, OK, where I watched my grandson play two basketball games. Priceless. We went to lunch, and in the restaurant’s lobby stood a tall, beautifully adorned Christmas tree, complete with exquisitely wrapped gifts. Driving back into Sterling, I saw a house decorated with Christmas lights and another with a decorated tree in the window.

The dash to decorate happens every year, but this year it seemed different. The Christmas rush took on a new meaning. Typically, it refers to all the buying, baking, and preparing for family and special parties. It pushes the calendar forward due to the fun and gaiety of the upcoming season. Thanksgiving loses some of its luster to the colors, carols, and anticipation of Jesus’ birthday, as well as the joys of Christmas festivities.

This year, it feels like the rush to Christmas is because we perhaps need an escape from the daily drama and trauma surrounding us, stemming from events we have no control over. The noise of blame and denial is deafening, and it leaves me, for one, a little numb.

I need Christmas. I need a reprieve from what feels like a bucket of scraps being dumped on my head every day, sometimes many times a day. I hear the hubbub and feel the tension even though I avoid the news and limit my scrolling.

It reminds me of a time when I was a school counselor, where all staff took turns supervising kids who had lost their privilege to participate in activities due to their disruptive behavior. I missed the big football game because it was my turn to manage the unmanageable. Because of their choices—choices I didn’t make or agree with—negative consequences fell on me.

Perhaps we are rushing to Christmas, overshadowing the pause for gratitude, because we feel pressure to navigate the unknown of what’s next and the financial strain.

Any situation or relationship in which we have no authority but still carry the responsibility (consequences) on our shoulders is not a good mental health scenario.

I’m embracing the Christmas Rush this year. Even if I only turtle crawl to something light and frivolous—anything that gives my brain a break—is worth gravitating toward. Call it La La Land, Pollyanna, or avoidance; I don’t care. If digging out ornaments and decorating our home with happy memories of times past, I permit myself to embrace whatever the green, red, and HoHo provide.

In the process, tomorrow, Thanksgiving, please don’t forget to reach deep and acknowledge every wonderful person in your life, plus your many blessings.

Build yourself a Happy Thanksgiving.

Until the next time: Live while you live.

Jennifer Goble, Ph.D., LPC, is the author of “My Clients…My Teachers,” and the blogger and writer of Rural Women Stories: www.ruralwomenstories.com.

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