Confessions of a Christmas Grinch: why I hate the holidays

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Right don’t judge me, just hear me out…

By the time Christmas comes around I’m already in a foul mood due to having my birthday two weeks prior (yes, I hate my birthday too), and I’m absolutely dreading the ultimate anti-climax of all – New Year’s Eve. Like, who even wants to go to a club that will be overcrowded and overpriced? In the middle of these two monstrosities is Christmas.

Now, if I was religious and wanted to commemorate the birthday of baby Jesus who was born all those years ago and who still may or may not be keeping tabs on us from beyond the pearly gates, then I might be more enthusiastic about having a worldwide HBD shindig for Jesus Christ our Saviour.

However, a Christian I am not. There is a strong probability that if I set foot in a church I would go up in flames.

Also, at the young age of 22 I have already been exposed to Christmas present politics. You bought me one last year so does that mean I have to buy you one now? Well, that’s going to prove to be a problem due to the fact that I don’t like you. Oh, and I’m also always poor. I’m not going to spend what little money I have on a shit gift that I know you won’t use. Christmas is just our consumerist society gone mad.

On the other hand, I do have time for Secret Santa (so long as there is a funny theme or a ridiculously low budget so that comical gifts are a definite).

Another thing that pisses me off is that I, by taking the moral high ground and being a vegetarian, am also grilled this time of year by you carnivores who scream in my face saying “so what DO you eat on Christmas day?!”

Nothing. I eat nothing. I go on hunger strike because this is the one day of the year where there is no alternative food on the planet except roast poultry. By 10pm I’m so hungry that I eat my own arm and then die.

I’ll have a nut roast, idiot. Get over it. (P.S. Quorn exists xoxo)

Furthermore, I condemn all Christmas songs that aren’t The Fairytale of New York and all films that aren’t Love Actually because I love turtlenecks, Dido and Alan Rickman.

Deck my halls with what now? I’ll do what I want thank you – don’t order me around. Stop screeching demands in my ear.

Now then, this all may be a result of the fact that my pessimism and ‘glass half empty’ mantra is currently being teased by a cocktail of Prozac and Valium… or maybe it’s not. Maybe I’m just a cold-hearted monster who is the lovechild of Satan and Katie Hopkins? You decide.

Joking aside, if anyone else is struggling with mental illness during the festive period and is finding it difficult to buy into Christmas cheer— it’s okay. You’re allowed. My GP recently told me, and I quote: “Mental illness can be a bit party pooper-esque”.

And he’s not wrong. Is it the most wonderful time of the year? Not for everyone.

Unfortunately, it’s not all tinsel and fairy lights for 1 in 4 of us. Mental illness doesn’t take a time off for the holidays.

So on the 25th December, spare a thought for those a bit closer to home. For those who may not want to eat, drink or be merry but may simply just want to battle their demons and win for one more day.

Hannah Lewis

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