CHRISTMAS EVE

I start this night before Christmas, unrested. Multiple instances of an above average poor sleep that started with what felt like a claustrophobic attack and proceeded with a litany of intense anxiety dreams. Strangely odd as I spent the Christmas Eve, Eve very relaxed. Maybe it was the trial of an energy drink at 4:00 pm. Or maybe this will be something new.  I’m hoping the former. 

I sleep well. Really well most of the time so a hiccup like this is not alarming...yet. I’ll give you an update tomorrow. 

I opened the page to write about the dreams I’d just had but there’s something extremely flat about trying to tell someone about a disturbing dream. Most times it’s not as simple as “someone was chasing me with a knife and I couldn’t run away.”  It’s more like trying to describe a feeling of eternal  existential loss combined with total anxiety caused by the back burner on your oven not lighting while a guy who was Matthew McConaughey, but not him at the same time, told you about his encounters with a convenience store clerk while getting beer jerky on a road trip. He’s in your kitchen but not anymore, you’re in line at the bank getting your lottery money but you lost your ID so you don’t get it. Then you’re back in your kitchen and the milk is bad. It’s all extremely stressful, mostly because you haven’t had a glass of milk in 20 years and none of those dreams happened last night, but it feels like all of them. Just completely different. 

So now I sit and I contemplate Christmas Eve from what feels like a slightly tired and possibly off kilter perspective. I’m thinking of Family Christmas traditions and that I don’t remember growing up with any. Don’t get me wrong, I had a great family growing up but traditions, weren’t our thing. 

I think of this a lot. 

Living in Louisiana, it seems like a lot of the people I know have rich family traditions and celebrations of culture. A yankee transplant to Mississippi who’s lived here  for 30 years, there’s always been a disconnect. It bugs me a little, just not enough to create a lot of traditions. We cut down a live tree the weekend of Thanksgiving and at 6pm Christmas Eve, we put on 24 Hours of A Christmas Story and it runs for 24 hours. 

This ultimately reminds me of my dad as it became our tradition after my kids were born. Mostly out of us kind of stumbling upon it. My dad of the age who lived through the time period the movie portrays and me, just wanting to spend time with my dad, and eventually my kids. 

Since it’s been a year or so, I’ll also mention the other Christmas memory I have. Watching the lights with my grandma, playing the Little Drummer Boy, our favorite Christmas song on the record player. She like the tree to blink. I did too then, but now enjoy the simple clean white lights, the 44 year olds styrofoam snowman I made at the North Cape Yacht Club when I was four or five, still on the tree, likely spewing forth some sort of glue/styro chemicals into the calm morning of the den. 

The writing has finally calmed me down from the nights impromptu mental shenanigans and I’m already planning a nap. This year will be a calmer Christmas due to no big get togetherness but per usual, I’m introspective and relaxed. I’ve grown to love the last two weeks of the year for the most part. Silver linings, and focus for the year ahead. 

Merry Christmas to you, I hope Matthew McConaughey fixes your oven. 

#hugsandhi5s