Well, ‘tis the season…

Divorced parents question you about which house you’ll be at for holiday dinners, arguments about politics at every family get-together ensue, and before you know it, you’re hiding out in your uncle’s room playing Monopoly while your mom cries downstairs. Wow. Family. What a thing to be thankful for, right?

Where am I spending the holidays? One week each? Two weeks with one? Now there’s bias; you must like the other parent better because you’re spending more time with them — the utter joy of facilitating between text conversations because they can’t just text each other directly. I wish my phone were dead because then they’ll have to figure it out on their own. Tick tock, time’s running out, make up your mind. Don’t I have better things to do than decide where I’m going to spend a holiday I don’t particularly care for? Apparently, the answer to that is no. Time’s running out! Make up your mind! But don’t hurt anybody’s feelings.

This isn’t some happy-go-lucky tale of the American Christmas. There isn’t a tree, half of the presents have yet to be delivered by Amazon, and mom’s been working all day and therefore is entirely over the whole idea of a holiday dinner. The TV is on, and it’s inevitable that some news report will strike up a conversation. Tick, tick, tick. It’s like a time bomb waiting to go off. One conversation leads to another. “Have you seen the news lately?” “What do you think about the recent election?” Normal conversation escalates. Tick, tick, tick. It’s going to blow up before you know it. You better eat dinner fast and get back to the kitchen to do the dishes before the next wave of political drama ensues. Hurry, or you’ll get dragged in—pick a side, you’re wrong! You’re right? Who’s right? Why does it matter? You don’t want to make anybody upset, though it’s inevitable. You have the right to an opinion, or do you?

Now the evening has set in, everyone has had pie, and the healthy debates about politics have turned into yelling in the living room, and of course, mom is recounting the horrors of her high school years. Gather the children and head upstairs for a game of Monopoly. The six-year-old threw all the money on the floor, Grandma’s on her fifth glass of wine, and the middle brother swears you’re cheating as he slips himself extra hundreds—because of course, he has to be the banker. Your uncle tries to mediate the situation to no avail. Win the game fairly, but somehow you’re a cheater. Then you’ll go home with your brothers mad at you for doing better than they did at a game entirely based on strategy.

I know a lot of people may deal with stuff like this when it comes to family get-togethers, so remember you’re not alone. Holidays are stressful and can be extremely trying on one’s mental state, so if you are in need of help, please reach out and get it.