Its the Holidays! Where's my Prozac?

Seasons a changin' again. Leaves of gold are fluttering gingerly across the pavement. Christmas jingles subtly making their annual debut in malls and elevators. The smell of Pumpkin Spice lattes snaking its way to your nostrils and of course-Olan Mills style family portraits that validate your play-boy bunniness and parenting mishaps:



There's something about this time of year that leaves me teetering precociously between this warm cozy feeling of safety and unbridled happiness(that undoubtedly was etched into my mind through good childhood memories of holidays spent with family) and bitter, BITTER depression. I could probably be diagnosed clinically bi-polar during the month of December (which could possibly explain my roller coaster relationship with chocolate and all members of his extended family, brownies included). Maybe it's the fact that we're reminded of all of our shortcomings of the past year, hence making unrealistic "resolutions" that always flounder and then we're just sad, still-five-pounds-overweight masochists. But damn it, we swear we're gonna read more, drink less, and finally take those salsa classes come the 31st every year, like clockwork.

Or maybe its answering to family. After all, Christmas is the DUI checkpoint of holidays. Except your family is the disapproving officer who smells the Jager on your breath and sees your poor decisions that span the length of a year. They're the ones gauging your accomplishments via a conventional timeline. Have you married? Started your career? I mean, who likes being held accountable for the healthy progression of their lives? And on the metaphoric Breathalyzer, I just blew a .999.

I know what it is. Apparently, I do have an internal clock.

Although it's not your run of the mill asking-my-first-date-if-he's-ready-for-marriage-and-kids- internal clock. It's quite the opposite. Take that picture I posted at the top. Is that what my future looks like?(minus the polos and questionable husband) Is adult life just one giant schedule? Are we doomed just to become creatures of habit? Every year, jumping through the same hoops, throwing the same dinner parties and making the same small talk to that neighbor who's lawn decorations are just 'soo cute!' I think that's what simultaneously makes me adore and loathe the holidays. It reminds me that every year, there's a steady, reliable source of love that's there for me. And my fear is that the same thing that brings me this sense of quiet, dignified joy now, will bore me later. I hope someday, a holiday season of ill conceived sweaters, baked goods and botched gift ideas makes me as happy as it does now. After all, keeping things in perpective, Christmas isn't about me-it's about ruthlessly siphoning off the generosity of extended family. Oh, and also, celebrating the birth of Jesus.