Don't dwell on it

I finally put away our Christmas decorations this week. My excuse for them still being up so long after Christmas was that I'd been working a lot and hadn't had time, but really they were still up because I enjoy having them up for as long as reasonably possible. I'm not going to have my Christmas tree up year-round, but I will prolong the inevitable by making excuses not to take it down. Holiday decorations, especially a Christmas tree, make me really happy. I can't quite explain it, but the site of a decorated evergreen tree (real or artificial) makes me smile and gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling.

Taking down Christmas decorations makes me sad. Fall is my favorite time of the year, and Christmas is the time to savor late fall and the end of the year in the company of loved ones. When I take down my Christmas decorations I'm admitting autumn is past, winter is here and spring and summer are well on their way in. It means that no one is thinking about how thankful they are for what they have or trying to work through disagreements for the sake of an enjoyable holiday. I hide in Christmas; it's a defense that I use knowing that, for a few weeks every year, my loved ones and I are going to make an effort to be cheery and forget our problems. I guess I wish life were like that all the time.

This week as I took down our decorations, feeling sad that another year had slipped away and that I had to admit that life was returning to normal, I found that I was feeling nostalgic as well. I began thinking of past Christmases, of decorating the tree at my Mom's house with my brother and sisters, and of past Christmases both fun and not so fun. And then I realized nostalgia is a dangerous place for me, especially when I'm already in a slightly sour mood.

It began with a memory of what was probably one of the first Christmases after my dad moved out. Mom was working at a job where she had to go in very early in the morning, and in an effort to have a somewhat normal Christmas morning before leaving for work she'd woken everyone up by 5 a.m. Money was short that year and most of our presents were basic necessities like socks and underwear. I'm sure there were a few toys and gadgets mixed in, but to the four sleepy, disappointed kids, this was the worst Christmas ever. We were such brats. I, the youngest and definitely the most spoiled, was especially a brat.

When I relive memories like this, something bad happens in my brain. I start to jump from one memory of a frustrating or embarrassing event to the next, as far back in time as my memory will allow. I beat myself up about how immaturely I handled situations, how I always seemed to do the wrong thing. I wish I could go back and do it all better, but that's impossible so I just mentally berate myself for my social inadequacies. It's a pathetic thing to do because it doesn't help me learn and move on. If anything, it reinforces my need to keep those nasty little memories handy for a moment of self-loathing when I can whip them out and mentally flagellate myself. It's ridiculous; I know this, but I can hardly control myself.

I've come to realize that I need to work on not dwelling on negative memories. If I can recall a memory, analyze it, and rationally extract a lesson, I will. But so often I can't, and it affects me daily. If I make a mistake and someone brings it to my attention, I'm embarrassed as a wave of memories of other failures washes over my brain. I'm sure that whoever I'm talking to can see those failures too. They can't, of course, and are probably wondering why I'm so mortified and upset about a minor mistake. And this, conveniently, provides me with another memory that I can beat myself up with in the future! What a fun gift to myself, like a self-cloning fruitcake. Or not.....

I'm no mental health professional, but I suspect a lot of people have some sort of ritual like this. So, readers, do any of you have a similar problem? If so, how do you manage it? Sound off in the comments or send me a personal message!