Yesterday I was in a funk and I couldn’t figure out why.
Then it dawned on me: It’s a holiday!
Even though Labor Day is one of those holidays that, sadly, had little impact on me growing up other than it meant a day off from school, it still sent me into an aimless walkabout the house, thinking about things I strategically avoid thinking about.
The older I get the more holidays bum me out.
Maybe if I had children I would feel differently?
Maybe if my partner believed in holidays they would be much more fun?
I spent most of the day wistfully thinking back to when I was a child, which lead me to thinking about where all the time has gone, which lead me to thinking about all those who came before us whose memories have faded away, which lead me to thinking about the long stretches of time that goes in between seeing my family, which lead me to thinking about the wrinkles and age spots I see on my parent’s skin, which lead me to thinking about my own gray hairs and spiderweb wrinkles around my eyes that will only multiply with age, which lead me to thinking about my once vivacious adopted grandfather who is suffering from Alzheimer’s and is alone in a care facility where he idly watches the clock tick, which lead me to thinking about my beautiful grandmother whose legs are making it difficult to walk, which lead me to looking at pictures of when we were all younger and happy. The pictures of my adopted grandfather squeezing my grandmother tightly as they dance at my cousin’s wedding. The pictures of my mother and I on our various adventures. The pictures of me, my mom and my dad before our family fell apart.
The emotional toll of looking at our former lives and then thinking of what the future holds became unbearable and I opted to go to sleep, even though I didn’t want to.
I wanted nothing more than to sleep the holiday away and wake up to a new day of strategically avoiding certain thoughts.
I envy those who do not dwell on the past.
That was heavy.
Sorry to bum y’all out.
Do you feel funky on holidays?
It’s not usually holidays that do it to me. Oddly, it’s Sunday afternoons when the funk creeps in for me. In that depressed state, I do some of my best writing.
I definitely feel kind of a funk on holidays, especially when friends take that opportunity to come visit. It’s always kind of bittersweet for me.