Author Archives: Jennifer Butler Basile

Depression, Living, Survival

Let-down. Easily?

The excitement I felt as a child spying Christmas lights through the trees, the twinkling points brightening the darkness, a magical apparition amidst a black backdrop – to say that’s gone away as I’ve gotten older would be a lie. It may have dimmed, but it hasn’t disappeared altogether.

Long drives to relatives’ houses, country roads turned unfamiliar by nightfall, the conical Christmas trees aglow in the windows we pass become the markers, the golden deer high on a hill the waypoints.

Our family traveled to one relative’s house both Christmas Eve and the following Saturday. The same route, the same sparkling spectacles, but somehow, within the space of a few days, the lights had lost their magic.

What once signaled possibility, now was a sad reminder that it was over; the points of light now a poignant prompt of what was. Looking at those lights depressed me in a way I couldn’t name. Not in the way it may have as a child, if Santa hadn’t brought me the one thing I coveted. Or knowing the time of unlimited treats was over. Perhaps because all the preparation leading up to that one day, all the hours reduced to a mere twenty-four, passed by in a flash. There was nothing now to which to look forward.

The lights would soon go out. The joyous strains of Christmas carols would end. The bleak days of winter would set in.

The end of the season is capped with the celebration of New Years’, but that’s always depressed me nearly as much – if not more.

A time to recount what we’ve done wrong during the past year, our mistakes, opportunities missed, amazing moments gone. Waiting in a suspended state, on edge, for – a kiss? A hangover? A mess of confetti to clean up? To wake up the next morning bleary eyed and cranky. What an auspicious way to herald a new beginning. The fact that, for years, New Years’ also signalled the end of vacation for me and the restart of my teaching schedule certainly didn’t help. That was anxiety-inducing and depressing in and of itself.

The whole of the time period between Christmas and New Years’ is a weird dead zone. There no longer is the excuse or mask of Christmas to impel us to at least fake happiness. There is a winding down, a let-down – with the building stress of creating a killer list of resolutions, ways to make our flawed selves better, to overcome our frail ways, to defeat the demons plaguing us for years in this one year. No pressure.

There is a hollow space in my chest during this time. A sadness somewhere behind my eyes and down in my throat. It is a return to normal. A return to a time with no distractions. While stressful with its added expectations and tasks, the time leading up to the holidays gives lots else to think about – rather than our problems. Or at least a good way to avoid them. Now it’s back to ‘ordinary time’.

And while that may not be the designation on the Church calendar at this time, that’s what it feels like to me. No longer extraordinary.

I know if I remove the decorations, the piles of gifts, the social commitments, there is the ultimate fulfillment of my wildest expectation in the birth of Christ. In the silence that follows all the earthly tumult is His quiet peace. I know I’m missing the point if I mistake the silence for sadness, when it should be taking me truly to the heart of the season, the true meaning. Perhaps that’s what the hollow is – the fact that I am missing it. But it is sometimes hard to cross the bridge between knowing and feeling – not because I do not want to, but because my body, or brain chemicals, or something won’t let me.

There is always the problem of unrealistic expectation. If I go from moment to moment, living it for what it is, sucking the marrow out of this minute, rather than anticipating the next, I will enjoy rather than lament. But I’ve always found it hard to balance preparation and mindfulness.

A couple of things I may try:
gratitude jar

Reading these next New Years’ Eve would put a positive focus on the end of the year, what I’ve gained and experienced rather than what will be lost.

Also, viewing the holidays in the terms put forth in this post from Life at the Circus would help keep my perspective from being skewed negatively and keep the absence out of the space after the holiday.  It may even keep me from feeling less in the pressure to make New Years’ resolutions.

May you all continue to see and feel the light of the season – even in the darkness behind your closed eyes. May you find ways to make that light last throughout the year to come.

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Living, Recovery

After(math of) Christmas

After holiday dinner, it’s back home to sweet potato peels on the floor.
curled into ribbons just before rushing out the door.

Dehydrated cantalope cut in the corner,
casualty of a frenzied fruit salad creation.

Boxes and ribbons and crumpled tissue paper
cast about the foot of the tree.

Accumulation of cookie crumbs and candy wrappers,
born of abandoned brooms and dustpans.

Time to pack things away instead of pulling them out,
to undo what took so long to do up,
unwind what’s so tightly wound.

After all the expectation and anticipation,
there is a void –
filled with the scraps of what was pretty and bright.

from xmasfreak.com

from xmasfreak.com

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Weekend Write-Off, Writing

Always in Season

But I am sure I have always thought of Christmastime, when it has come around — apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that — as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys.  And therefore, Uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!

— from A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

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Faith, Living

Light of Our Lives

We are each responsible for our own life – no other person is or even can be.
~ Oprah Winfrey

Seems like a no-brainer,

but easier understood than lived.

Often we navigate our lives based on the obstacles or openings others put in front of us; in reaction to.

But what if we created a whole new point of origin?

If our bright spark of an idea lit off a streak of light that started with us and branched out into a candelabra of possibilities?

You [YOU] are the light of the world. A city set on a mountain cannot be hidden. Nor do they light a lamp and then put it under a bushel basket; it is set on a lampstand where it gives light to all in the house. Just so, your light must shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father.

                                                                                                             Matthew 5:14-16

Here’s to all of us who claim our light. Who don’t wait for others to light it. Who open the gates of our cities, our hearts, for commerce, for community. Who bravely hang our lamps for all to see, for all to benefit from their light. Who give glory to God through claiming and utilizing our gifts.

Here’s to all of us who found businesses because we see a need and push our knowledge and creativity to fill it. Here’s to those who reach out of our comfort zone to bend the parameters of our career, broaden it. Here’s to the ones who leave the comfort of a steady paycheck with benefits to become our own bosses. Here’s to any and all of us willing to take a chance on our dreams.

Here’s to all of us claiming responsibility for our lives.

sun on hand gesture

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Mental Health, Mental Illness

How to Help the Mentally Ill during the Holidays

During a season known for its twinkle lights and tinsel, it’s hard to feel the least bit sparkly when suffering from a mental illness. All the shining happy people floating around us make us feel that much more isolated, removed, and miserable. They all make it look so effortless while we struggle to keep our heads above water on a regular day. The added mayhem of shopping, socializing, and stringing the lights raises the bar to a Himalayan height.

I’ve talked before about how I’ve come to hate putting up our Christmas tree the last few years. Those Christmas crackers? They’ve got nothing on me. My head was about to pop off several times throughout the whole ordeal. This year a few events have transpired that have unwittingly saved me from the debacle so far.

This is only our second year with a real pine tree, which takes more planning than retrieving the cardboard coffin of our since deceased artificial one from the basement. As always the weekends spool away from us toward the holiday at an alarming rate and we haven’t made it to the tree farm. Not to mention, we don’t have tons of extra green of the other kind lying around these days. After two years of failing to decorate that pine tree in direct line of sight from our back door, we finally decided we should chop it down and use it as our indoor Christmas tree. To which the kids balked saying it is too small. They fail to remember the merits of a Charlie Brown Christmas tree or the top third we had to slice off last year due to our overzealous choice. BUT in any event, the ensuing chaos and discord has kept us tree-free for a couple of weeks now.

Which is totally fine by me.

One day when only one of my elves was home from school, I dragged out the bin of wreaths and garlands and hung those up, deposited the empty bin downstairs, and enjoyed the view. Another day, I set up the bin with the nativity and related items. And quit for that day. A third day, I retrieved the mamma-jamma bin longer than I am tall – and which usually makes me want to lay down inside and cry because the kids fling stuff out of it with reckless abandon – and opened it. That’s all. It’s still sitting in the corner, lid askew. The kids pick a few things out here and there, but we haven’t set it all out yet.

And still no sign of a tree.

I know it’s my anxiety and perfectionism and ability to get easily overwhelmed and controlling tendencies that made opening that Christmas box of decorations so hellish. I know I may be missing the point by not letting my girls pull it all out with reckless abandon. But it doesn’t come from some deep-seated desire to be like Martha Stewart. It comes from my tendency to move like a snail and being pushed through the steps heightens my anxiety like the Abdominable Snowman’s toothache. A previously joyous activity becomes hell on a holly branch.

So low and slow is my speed this year.

It seems as if the absence of the tree lets us focus on other beautiful parts of the season, too. Our advent wreath. The nativity. The soft glow of candlelight. Christmas stories and cuddling.

The slow dissemination of decorations from storage bins is not a foolproof solution for all people struggling during the holiday season, though.

How can we all lower our expectations and be at peace with ourselves? How can you keep it low and slow? How can you help your loved ones cope?

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Children, Humor

What Overnight Camping with Girl Scouts Will Teach You

  1. You were sadly mistaken when you thought the sleepless nights of your child’s infancy were over.
  2. You really did forget how much they sucked.
  3. All that whining about being overtired on your ‘normal’ schedule is a gross overexaggeration.
  4. The winding roads leading out of camp will make your head swim like the Dreaded Corkscrew of Death rollercoaster you loved as an eleven year-old – because now you’re middle-aged and sleep deprivation does funny things to you.
  5. Sometimes it pays to delay dropping the winter comforter you removed from your bed last spring at the dry cleaners. When you realize you forgot a blanket, you can retrieve it from your car trunk. Needs to be cleaned anyway!
  6. No matter how tired you are, you will hear the ill-seated toilet clunk upon the floor when the child masquerading as an elephant rumbles downstairs to use it at 3 AM.
  7. That odd scritching sound you hear just before dawn is not the pitter-patter of your charges. A seasoned leader will later tell you it was the squirrels in the ceiling.
  8. Impressing upon children the skill of packing only what you can carry is like telling Imelda Marcos she needs to cull her shoe collection.
  9. Engaging caffeine is a love/hate relationship: love it now, hate it when you shake so much you can’t put any more in your body yet still feel like shit.
  10. You really do have a laissez-faire, no-nonsense attitude with your own children.
  11. Other people’s children may not know how to navigate your ‘tough tooties – time for bed NOW’ attitude.
  12. A short time after arrival, you will take on the ‘Eau de Camping’ – a subtle scent with notes of mildew and maple syrup.
  13. Crafting at 11 o’clock at night is totally on the table.
  14. Four to eight eager girls will demand on-pointe spatial relations skills simultaneously and impatiently – at 11 o’clock at night.
  15. Children who go to sleep at approximately one o’clock in the morning will bounce out of bed at approximately seven o’clock.
  16. Bounce is not a euphemism.
  17. Shaky balcony rails were meant to be leant on.
  18. All trap-doors, attic access points, and all-around off limits areas will be located and attempted to be entered.
  19. The limitless flow of last night’s enthusiasm will dwindle drastically when it is time to sweep the floor before leaving.
  20. There is a threshold for number of times to hear ‘It’s a Hard Knock Life’ sung at top volume.
  21. Even eight, nine, and ten year-old girls can be subject to hormonal swings.
  22. You will all remember this as a special time – a bond that can only be made in a sleep-deprived, survivor-type environment.W_C2
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Weekend Write-Off

Just What I Needed

This article offers sound encouragement for anyone working toward certain goals.  It particularly spoke to my recent musings on writing.  Thank you to the intuitive soul – who can still intuit over the miles – who sent it to me.

Read – and write – on!

What I Do When it Feels Like My Work Isn’t Good Enough by James Clear

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