I’ve mentioned this every year for the last 19 years, for a reason: keep in mind that not everyone is feeling merry this season, for a multitude of reasons. You don’t know what a stranger is struggling with. Or even a friend. It can certainly be financial, health, relationship problems… but the last 6 weeks of the calendar year are emotionally hard on a lot of people. Even if you’re not a Christian feeling the “Joy to the World” pressure, you probably connect the season to past family time or time with loved ones, and they may not be available to you this year, for whatever reason. Those old memories, if they were sweet, bubble up to the top and just… ache. There’s a lot going on right now in their world, and some people just grit their teeth and try to get through the holidays without breaking.
(I’m doing well, so that’s not the purpose of this post. Just consider it a PSA. Some of you know the story already, but I have a lot of new people following me this year.)
In a nutshell: Cut people some slack where you can, and don’t try to force anyone into a celebratory mood. That’s probably good advice even beyond the season.
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Nineteen years ago this week, I’d just returned to Niceville with the kids after a difficult few days at my mom’s. My fridge was empty. I still had presents to buy. I’ve written about this before and I’ve shoved most of the details out of my head, but I was really struggling emotionally when I headed alone into the Kmart (long since gone) to pick up something I had to have that night so I could go back to work.
I didn’t want to be there. The store was packed–I mean PACKED–with Christmas shoppers. The bellringers were extra loud, or seemed to be. The decibel level in the store just from the noise of so many people was nerve-wracking. It was hard to get through the aisles, and the lines at the cash registers were super long. I just wanted to go home. I was grinding my teeth, literally, and sniffing back tears. It was hard to breathe, and it was taking everything I had in me to be there.
Finally after a long wait in line–they were all at least as long as the one I chose–I got to the cashier’s station and put my purchases on the belt and waited for the person ahead of me to finish paying. It’s weird how I forget some details but not others, like the silver-with-flecks-of red-and-green tinsel garland draped across the gum and mint displays or the smell of dry sugar cookies in the pyramid of blue tins.
I’ve hated both since.
The cashier was older than me, very loud, and overly cheery. While standing in line, I’d already heard her complaining about people saying “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas,” and the “War on Christmas,” which was a relatively new thing back then. She wished the customer ahead of me a very loud “Merry Christmas!” and told that customer she was allowed to say it and no one was going to stop her. The customer didn’t seem to have a problem with it and chattered back.
Then it was my turn.
I reached into my purse for my credit card and realized there was a memento in my purse from a church service a few days before, and I choked up.
The cashier waved goodbye to the customer ahead of me, then took one look at my face and IMMEDIATELY started berating me to cheer up and that I should SMILE because it was Christmas… or was I one of those people saying “Happy Holidays,” and why wasn’t I showing some Christmas cheer.
I couldn’t speak. I had this huge lump in my throat and was having trouble getting the words out, let alone telling her to f-off, which is probably what I’d do now. Younger Lorna still had f’s to give, I supppose. Regardless, the intrusion startled me, and I just wanted to be left alone and get home in one piece.
She wasn’t having it. And she was loud. Even louder than the bellringer outside or the general din of the place. People were stopping to stare, as if I’d said something to offend her when I hadn’t said anything at all. She saw I was trying to say something and talked over me, telling me to speak up and demanding an answer. This woman was upset that I wasn’t smiling and happy at Christmastime, and how dare I?
Somewhere in there, while she was running my credit card, she paused long enough for me to get the words out, but they were too low and broken, and she demanded I speak up. There was no kindness in her tone, no heartfelt wish for merriment for me, no bright blessings of comfort or peace. Just the assumption that I didn’t share her beliefs and was one of those people making war on Christmas. And no, there was nothing about my middle-aged-mom appearance or vibes that might have suggested war, except the tightness in my jaw.
I remember lifting my head enough to make awkward eye contact with several strangers who had turned to see what the commotion was about as they left the other aisles. I remember taking a deep breath and raising my voice enough to be heard before she could lay into me again for not smiling.
I told her I’d just returned from my dad’s funeral.
I don’t recall an apology, just silence. I don’t recall what I was buying or my rush to my car afterward. The main thing I remember about that interaction with this stranger hell-bent of forcing me to say “Merry Christmas” was how she made me feel and that she alone made life harder than it already was at that moment.
So that’s the message: don’t make life harder on someone than it already is or harder than it has to be. You can wish someone joy, but don’t try to mandate it. Sometimes, what they need isn’t the joy so much as the comfort, and peace, and just for January to get here already.
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Tips for working through grief and coping with the pain of loss, one day at a time.
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