As understatements go, saying that this has been a bad year rates pretty high. I’ve almost run out of metaphors to describe the sheer awfulness of it all. I’ve spent months now eating my feelings, resisting the urge to turn to the giant glasses of Malbec that used to temper my nerves on a nightly basis after another shit day at work. I’ve mostly cried, sometimes silently, sometimes in the shower, sometimes in the car after a particularly stressful shopping trip where I’ve been overcome with anxiety about distances and suspicion, panting and sweating after being gagged for an hour. PTSD is a mofo, and so is hand sanitizer…my fingers look like sausages and I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve burnt my eyeballs simply by wiping away tears.

But with it being the season of goodwill, I’ve been speaking to myself about hope. I believe in hope. I’m actually a positive person, despite the reality checker that’s permanently switched on in my brain. And I love Christmas. Always have done, even back in the days when I was a poverty stricken child with little to nothing in the way of gifts. Christmas was still magic to me. I loved thinking about Santa – I didn’t believe in him but I loved the idea of this kindly Saint reaching out to bless kids all over the world. I loved the nativity story too, with shepherds freezing their butts off in a field getting good news that would turn their lives around….and Wise Men following a star and visiting a baby with gifts he’d have no immediate use for…the whole thing filled me with wonder. 

My reality checker reminds me that for so many, Christmas is an amplifier…of the good and the bad. For those who are lonely, they feel ever more isolated. For those suffering loss, the grief cuts that much sharper. As I’ve got older, I’ve felt these losses all the more, but have tried to stand against the wave of emotion it can bring and just be grateful for the seasonal respite.  But with 2020 being what its been, I’ve been asking myself, how can we celebrate in the midst of so much sadness? How can we rejoice when so many are mourning? How can we sing in a storm?

When my son was around 2 years old, I went through a severe mental health crisis,one of several I’ve had since childhood. My head was a mess…I like to think of it now as a beautiful but tangled ball of wool. I struggled at times to have a single coherent thought, and yet I was working, teaching, parenting and creating new work all while wrestling physical and mental health problems. I remember walking through an allotment one afternoon, desperate to calm my nerves and hoping the plants would do the trick. I was holding my son’s tiny hand and wondering what  this poor little fella had done to deserve such a wacky mum. I squeezed his hand, fear and panic rising in my chest, and he suddenly started to sing, really loud. I can’t remember the exact song as he had a tendency back then to just make words up. He was a toddler, with limited vocab, a lisp and couldn’t yet hold a tune. It was painful to hear his sweet innocent voice crying out…because that’s what it felt like, that he was in his own way attempting to sooth me in my distress. I joined in with him, and felt transported to his world, where for a few moments rhyme and rhythm replaced fear and the unknown.

Singing is, in my opinion, a tool for riding the storm. Sailors used to do it at sea as they scrubbed slimy decks, men and women on plantations would share songs in the midst of their oppression, even soldiers chant choruses when their training almost has them beat. There’s something about raising our voices that brings healing, brings courage. It’s cleansing, it reminds us that we have creative power – and boy, do we need to be creative right now! Jesus went a step further and fell asleep in a storm, while his disciples were pooing themselves around him. Maybe if they’d started up a sea shanty, the storm would have calmed itself without them having to wake up their saviour, who knows?

And what to sing? Anything. Songs of hope are good but singing out your sadness can be cathartic too – we need to lament. Sing out your frustration…I’m not usually a fan, but I’ve got several thrash metal songs that I scream along to when I have to face certain situations. Better still, sing out your vision for 2021, and march, stomp, dance while your making your voice heard. Don’t be shy. The storm is real. We don’t know when it will end. It’s heavy, dark and scary. But the stars are still shining. Like the one that settled over that stable.

Someone once said (I forget who) ‘Don’t let the tragic steal all the magic’. Don’t let the storm drown out your voice. It matters.

Merry Christmas friends❤

Image by Anastasiya Yilmaz