The Twelve Triggers of Christmas

Weeks ago it was warmish and the sky smelled jack-o'-lanternish, then bang! Thanksgiving crash-landed, now the sky is dark by 6:00 p.m. and fleece hats are unflattering. Superstore banners beg us to Be jolly, mocking those of us for whom these holidays are one big trigger-ball.

Shattered by super-saturated images of home and family, we blame ourselves because hey, who hates merry brightness but a hopeless case?

But hark: Alleged holiness hardwires certain days to tick-tock menacingly for many of us, their songs war cries or warning signs.

But then they flee for one more year before we can fully unpack — or fix — what they have done to us.

Knowing why holidays feel dangerous might help us hate ourselves — and maybe others — less.

1. History: If our own relatives have harmed us, interacting with them amidst happy, holy trappings feels like selling ourselves to the enemy.

2. Memory: Certain loved ones are now sick, different, or dead. Rejoicing, even if they urged us to, feels false, disloyal or impossible.

3. Envy: If we've spent all year sad or broke or lonely, sparkly fusillades of songs/words/images displaying joy and plenty rubs our faces in our pain.

Source: Anneli Rufus

4. Exclusivity: We who never celebrated Christmas feel sometimes like wistful Martians peering into festive windows, shamed for craving other planets' fun.

5. Satiety, sobriety: This is a season of indulgence, taunting those who struggle with addictions, body issues, and eating disorders: Have another sip or slice.

6. Parties: Introverts dread being invited anywhere. Extroverts dread not being invited anywhere. This season abounds in each type's worst fears.

7. Politics: We spend all year avoiding those whose ethics we abhor. Then holidays thrust us together, asking us to revel with those we believe are evil, dumb or damned.

Source: Anneli Rufus

8. Spirituality: The faithful feel deluged with irreverent drek. Secularists feel forced to hail alleged miracles they find ridiculous.

9. Money: This can be a very costly season.

10. Performativity: We the self-conscious, for whom life feels like a nonstop series of auditions, feel faker than ever — and fiercely judged — amidst all this forced togetherness.

11. Meteorology: We tell ourselves to grow up and enjoy these icy, sunless, shrinking days. But seasonal affect disorder is a thing.

12. Reciprocity: Will those we love — and those we don't — embrace or shun the gifts we give? Will we respond convincingly to theirs?

None of these triggers are our fault. Nor are a million more, most of them highly personal: Sis had a stroke while flinging tinsel. A toppled menorah torched the couch.

But lo: In our triggeredness, we are not alone.

And if we spot each other sneaking out the back doors of what are (but feel unlike) festivities and family homes, let our eyes meet. Let us realize that we are recharging and staying safe and/or seeking sacredness elsewhere. If we are approaching crisis, let us promise ourselves to reach out.

This is just one month in a year of months. It just smells more of cloves.