About a month ago my psychologist asked me if I had anything to look forward to this year, and my only answer was Christmas. As soon as I said it, I realised that I was lying. December is such a full-on time of year. There are so many presents to buy, meals to prepare, parties to attend, family to see and work deadlines to achieve before finishing up for the year.
It’s a hard holiday. I face a huge family dinner table where I am the only one without a partner (unless you count my uncle, who still doesn’t chew with his mouth closed), and – on a more serious note – I face the difficult reality of trying to make the most of the holiday season while feeling crippled by my own mental illness.