Everything Girl

By the time you read this, most of us will have survived yet another holiday season with varying degrees of aplomb and skill. Some of us, well, allow me to be perfectly honest, some of you, will have thoroughly enjoyed the entire tinsel-y, divinity fudge-y, saccharine music-y month with nary an extra pound added nor hair out of place. I don’t, to be clear, know any of these people, but I have heard legend of their existence.

Some people navigate the holidays with such a reservoir of grace that I feel as if they are from another planet—the planet of the ever-happy Chirpy People. These people are a marvel, and, as I continue to grow older, I feel less and less disdain for them. The disdain is slowly being replaced by a sense of awe, a near-disbelief at the authentic joy they express at the mere contemplation of eggnog and family dinners where enough food to feed a village is served. And, while I am not that person, I am making peace with the holidays the same way I do with long lines at the DMV: It just is so I am learning to accept it.

This time of year is difficult for me, as it is for many people who don’t buy into the ho-ho-ho-spend-your-savings-on-a-bunch-of-future-landfill-stuff-as-a-feeble-gesture extravaganza that Christmas in the U.S. has become. In past years, Christmas, just the thought of it, has filled me with so much anxiety that I have become sick over it. And for those who read my last column, The Fissure, you know that I have recently struggled with anxiety attacks and tenuous mental health. The holiday season is enough to push me back into the darkness of panic and hyperventilation.

Yet, as I write this, on December 20, 2009, only five days away from Christmas, I am feeling surprisingly calm and present. A general sense of contentment pervades my entire being despite some still very real stressors in my life. Coping skills working? Check. Maintaining perspective? Check. Keeping my sense of humor intact? Check again. What a difference in my outlook this month compared with the last few months—and this, typically my most stressful time of the year!

The response I received from The Fissure was inspiring. I heard from many readers, publicly and privately, that they, too, had similar episodes of mental instability and anxiety or panic attacks. That so many people could relate to what I went through was heartening—not, of course, because they felt the depths of despair as I did, but because lots of us go through this in silence and by writing about it I was able to help others feel less crazy, less alone, less invisible.

So, I bring you this epilogue, amidst the holiday hoopla and end-of-the year craziness to say that I feel surprisingly sane these days. Not in an I-think-I’ll-move-to-the-suburbs-I’m-so-normal sort of way, but back to my generally healthy mental state with momentary blips of what I consider to be charming craziness. The stuff that makes me, well, me. And I’m just fine with that.

The key to my continued success along the path to wellness has been the support of my friends (and my dear mother), my yoga practice, and my relentless pursuit of health through nutrition, information, and contemplation.

I met with a writer friend recently and she marveled at the fact that I did it, am doing it, am getting well and staying well without medication. She wasn’t the only one to comment on that, come to think of it. Another writer I know was impressed with this, too. Apparently we writers are a sensitive lot and prone to mental instability—again, it’s part of our charm.

For whatever reason, I have the ability to push through the dark without the aid of pharmaceuticals—at least thus far. The psychological swamp is a scary place to traverse, alone, all dark-damp and dripping with our worst fears and it’s not to be taken lightly. If necessary, I would consider medication to help me through the mire next time.

But this isn’t a commentary on the pros and cons of better living through modern chemistry. This is a report card; it’s even a sort of love letter, to you, dear reader, and to the universe—to let you know that I am doing well as I dip my toes into the advancing tide that is 2010. It’s my way of letting you know that I am fine, that I am pretty optimistic about the now and the future and that I am working toward thrive (instead of just survive). And to thank you, dear reader, for being there, wherever you are—I wish for you the best of health in 2010.

Shanna is a writer, thinker, newly-minted yoga teacher, and muse-for-hire. She likes to travel—discovering inspiration in the ordinary; magic in the mundane. Shanna lives in San Diego but misses Portland, Paris, and Prague. She thinks there’s a theme there. You can follow her witticisms and sage commentary on twitter: http://twitter.com/shannatrenholm or on her blog at http://shannatrenholm.posterous.com/.

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