My Fear Of Joy

For some reason, Christmas depresses me. I know. 'Tis the season to be jolly, the song goes. And yes, this is a season to celebrate the birth of the One who was born to teach us everything about love. Everywhere I go, I hear Christmas carols, I trees lit and adorned with trinkets which evolved from the traditional trimmings to the recycled dried fruits & vegetables, tree barks and branches and even contraceptives. Children go house to house and sing carols in monotone, not knowing the lyrics to the Christmas songs, stop midway and leave once the precious coins are handed. The only clear part of the carolling is '..thank you, thank you, and babait ninyo, thank you!'. Many are out in the streets, enjoying what festivities there are. This is also the time it is uncomfortably cold, the breeze clawing into your bones. I can't remember a Christmas when I was not down with fever. Sigh.

Maybe it is the thought that another year is about to end, and I am getting older. Or I guess it is this feeling of moving forward to yet another year but knowing that I have not accomplished much the year past. Perhaps it is the nosebleed levels of expenses for gifts. Or, as my therapist said, I enjoy beating myself up with sadness. I thrive in being miserable, she told me, that I fear to be happy in the moment. There is this hunger in you, she said, to immerse in pain, rather than joy. Big words there. Which hindsight, are true, when I force myself to be honest.

Joy. When I think of it, I do find it in the simplest of things, really: posts on my social media account reflects the times when I feel that in just seeing lush mountains; sunsets; mangoes; the shoreline; an old church; my son playing the guitar; Winky and her red squeeze toy; my bags; my daughter and her fierce independence; my nephew and his kindness; my niece and her innocence; my sisters and their dysfunctional minds; my friends with their bursts of laughter for no apparent reason; my feet up against the wall after a long day; the warmth of a blanket; sleep. The list goes on. I only need to acknowledge that I have joy, and let go of the fear to experience it. I am afraid to be into it, joy, because I have this stupid notion that I will have to 'pay' for that joy with its exact opposite sooner or later. Hence, my dread for Christmas. While everyone is joyous, I make myself depressed. 

So now, what to do? I know that answer to that of course. I go further now by believing in that answer: Be here. In the moment. Be thankful for the moment. Be joyous in the moment. Whatever lies ahead, cast that with faith to the spirit of the baby born in a manger, by a mother who believed, a father who embraced the impossible, and grew up in the midst of legions who followed Him by being joyous, in the moment they experienced His love.