I usually do some goal setting in December, and this month started with a small bang as I shared my goal setting method with a group of women (I’d say it’s a mastermind group and yet feel like we pushed, encouraged, and supported each other way more than previous mastermind groups I belonged to, and we call it WOW).
Before setting goals for next year, I had to look back on this one. 2025 started out with grief. This was not my usual uplifting stuff at all, and so I had to consciously set some big challenges to outpace the melancholy. This only sort of worked, of course.
There were some successes, a whole lot of reflection, and did I mention the grief part? On the success side, there’s now an omnibus version of the Morgan Winfeld stories; a short story in an anthology from my writers’ club; several completed organizing projects; video and two instructional presentations at quilt summits; travel to Toronto for Quilt Canada; organized a bookstore party celebrating kids and literacy; designed a couple of brand new quilts; and, painfully, helped my mom move into care.
At the beginning of the year, I had just recovered from an unexplained paralysis in my eye, and then in July I went through some kind of metabolic meltdown. I had an ER visit with a CT scan showing my brain looks okay on the inside, but my pancreas has a mind all of its own and has a direct relationship to my kidneys. Four kidney infections this year (or one long one), and I am learning how to administer short acting insulin in addition to my usual daily stuff, and I had a double boob biopsy in September. My legs get swollen every day, I’ve put on weight, and my stomach is covered in yellowing bruises.
I think things feel heavy not only because all this has been hard on my joints; they aren’t easy on the brain either.
This time of year used to be my favourite, but it’s taken me a good long while to get into the season this time around. This has caused me to reflect a little more.
When I was a youngster, the holidays were mostly about gathering with family and friends for feasting, performing music and playing it on the stereo, and the fun of opening a few gifts. (Gift giving in the 1970s and 80s is not like it is today.) As my kids grew up, it continued to be about the hectic frenzy that went into performing concerts, baking, cooking, and getting the shopping done. As things got more commercial and food television channels became a thing, we started eating even more food and buying more gifts. (The habit of gaming company’s to release not just a new game, but entire gaming systems each Christmas was not lost on me.)
Dealing with this melancholy over the holidays is not fun, and so to get through it I am creating my own moments of joy…glimmers, if you will. I’m smiling at the old sounds of the Fallout Christmas playlist on Spotify, wrapping gifts in paper that’s just a little extra, and recreating favourite smells. Instead of sweating it out in the kitchen, I bought sausage rolls, and I'll throw them in the oven before serving them alongside some homemade pepper jelly. We’ve purchased torchière for Christmas Eve, but it’s from my favourite bakery and they get the seasonings just right. And, we visited London Drugs twice to pick up some decadent Swiss and German delicacies, plus some Italian cookies at Costco instead of a full dark fruit cake that’s on the no no list.
I am very grateful for bright lights that are all over the house, thanks to hubby. It’s a good thing we put them up in addition to the Peppermint Spa blow up that our son bought, because our neighbours haven’t put many lights on this part of the street, and I’m hopeful these lift their spirits, too.
Part of the reason I’m writing this and sending it out today is to say that if you are feeling melancholy or just a wee bit sad, embrace it for a second, acknowledge it, and then do something for yourself that helps it move along. This is our second Christmas without my Dad. I feel his loss deeply, even though I had lived in different cities from him for many years. He was one of those Dads that wasn’t really emotional, unless you got to talk to him on his own. He encouraged me to do, think, and be more. He expected me to study music, go to university, be a good parent, and to be a good human and critical thinker.
We have a very nice scotch at the ready, and we will salute him over the holidays. I’ll think of him while making turkey gravy tomorrow (his signature dish), and I’ll have a smile to myself when I remember what he felt about Christmas.
Happy Holidays to you all. May your season be complete with people, lights, and food you love.