November 24th. Exactly one month until Christmas. What is one of my favorite holidays. The lights, the woodsy decor, the warm scents of balsam and cinnamon, crackling fireplaces and glowing candles. For as long as I can remember, Christmas has been a holiday that I love.
And yet, for at least ten years, I’ve really not celebrated. Depression can be a difficult disease to live with. It can suck the life from you and render things that bring you joy absolutely joyless. Worse yet is when you are not one but three in a household where you strive to overcome depression. Yeah, let’s just say that Christmas at the Lions has not been merry and bright.
This year is different – we’re trying. Is it slow going? Of course. Years past, before mom found herself suffering from disabling back deteriorating and I from grey clouds won’t go away depression, the house would be decorated from roof to floor, inside and out by the end of Black Friday. It’s the witching hour where Saturday turns to Sunday and we’re managed three Christmas trees plugged in and I’ve started one of my crafts.
And it’s great.
Yes, I am absolutely thrilled that we have gotten this far. We’re going to keep going; put up the rest of the trees, hang some garland and lights about, put the decorations on the trees – the whole nine yards. And we’ll leave them up well into January so we can enjoy them. We’re not quick, we’re not necessarily the neatest, but we’re having fun.
That, my friends, is what matters.
Now if you will excuse me, I have some glue to wash off my fur and some nice warm fleeces to cuddle under.