There’s a particular patient I think of every December. She came to see me years ago, not because of depression or anxiety in the traditional sense, but because she was dreading Christmas. Specifically, she was dreading her sister-in-law.
‘She’s not a bad person,’ my patient explained, wringing her hands. ‘She just makes me feel terrible about myself. Every year she asks about my job, my weight, whether I’ve “met anyone nice yet”. And every year I come away feeling like a complete failure.’
I suspect many of you reading this know exactly what she meant. Because here’s the uncomfortable reality about the festive season that we often find hard to admit: it forces us into close proximity with people we’d ordinarily avoid.
This isn’t me being a Grinch, it’s just a fact. The colleague who takes credit for your work. The uncle who delights in controversial opinions. That old school friend who can’t help but remind everyone how marvellously their life is going while yours, by implication, is not.
During the rest of the year we can manage these relationships through careful rationing. A brief encounter at a birthday party here, a quick coffee there. But December is different. December is relentless. Office parties, family gatherings, catch-ups with friends you haven’t seen since last Christmas. Your social battery, already depleted from the year’s demands, is suddenly expected to power through an exhausting schedule of enforced jollity.
The uncomfortable reality about the festive season that we often find hard to admit is that it forces us into close proximity with people we’d ordinarily avoid, writes Dr Max Pemberton
It’s often made worse by the heightened emotions of the season as they seem to amplify everyone’s most difficult qualities. The friend who occasionally boasts becomes insufferably smug. The relative who sometimes criticises becomes a relentless judge. Alcohol flows, inhibitions lower, and suddenly you’re cornered by someone listing their achievements while you smile through gritted teeth and wonder if it’s too early to claim you need to relieve the babysitter.
So what can you do? Having spent over 20 years as a psychiatrist listening to people navigate these treacherous social waters, I’ve learned a few things that might help.
First, accept that you cannot change other people. I know this sounds obvious, but it’s remarkable how much mental energy we waste hoping that this year, finally, Auntie Margaret will stop making pointed comments about your life choices. She won’t. She’s been doing it for decades and she’s not about to have an epiphany over the turkey. The only thing you can control is your response.
Second, prepare yourself mentally before these encounters. I often advise patients to spend a few minutes before a challenging social event reminding themselves of what they’re likely to face and how they want to handle it.
If you know your cousin always asks intrusive questions about your finances, have a bland, conversation-ending response ready. ‘Oh, everything’s ticking along fine. Now, have you tried the mince pies?’
Third, and this is crucial, give yourself permission to limit your exposure. There’s nothing virtuous about martyrdom. If the office party is making you miserable, you don’t have to stay until the bitter end. If the family gathering is becoming unbearable, it’s perfectly acceptable to step outside for some fresh air, volunteer to walk the dog, or suddenly remember an urgent need to check on something in the kitchen. Brief breaks can be enormously restorative.
Fourth, resist the urge to compare yourself to others. When your boastful friend is holding court about their promotion, their holiday home, their children’s achievements, remember that you’re only seeing the highlights reel. Nobody broadcasts their failures at Christmas parties. That apparently perfect life almost certainly contains struggles you know nothing about. And even if it doesn’t, their success is not your failure. Your worth isn’t diminished by someone else’s good fortune.
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, be strategic about where you invest your emotional energy. You don’t have to engage meaningfully with everyone.
With truly toxic individuals, the grey rock technique can be remarkably effective: be pleasant but utterly boring. Give short, uninteresting answers. Don’t rise to provocations. Don’t share anything personal that could be used against you later. Become, essentially, as interesting as a grey rock. Most ‘difficult people’ are seeking a reaction. Deny them one and they’ll often move on to easier prey.
My patient, incidentally, did eventually find peace with her sister-in-law. Not by confronting her or changing her, but by adjusting her own expectations and responses. She stopped hoping for warmth and simply aimed for civility.
She prepared herself beforehand, limited her exposure during, and scheduled something restorative afterwards.
Christmas, for all its supposed magic, can be hard. If you’re dreading certain encounters this season, know that you’re not alone, you’re not being ungrateful, and you’re not obliged to sacrifice your mental wellbeing on the altar of festive cheer. Be kind to yourself.
And remember: January is only a few weeks away.
Davina’s perfect wedding
Davina McCall with her husband Michael Douglas. The pair recently got married in a small ceremony
In an era when celebrities routinely sell their wedding photographs to glossy magazines or livestream their proposals on Instagram, Davina McCall has done something quietly revolutionary. She got married to hairdresser Michael Douglas in secret.
Just a small, intimate ceremony with the people who matter most, followed by a larger celebration for friends and family. How wonderfully, refreshingly old-fashioned.
McCall has been admirably open about her personal struggles over the years, from addiction to her brain surgery and recent breast cancer diagnosis. She understands, perhaps better than most, the value of sharing one’s story. But she also clearly understands that some moments are too precious to be commodified. Good for them both.
Baroness Amos says ‘nothing prepared her’ for the level of unacceptable care she encountered in NHS maternity services. With respect, those of us who have been paying attention are not surprised.
Here we are again – with another ‘interim report’ prior to publication of a full review next spring. Families affected by failings at Oxford University Hospitals and 11 other trusts are already expressing what so many before them have felt: that nothing will actually change.
The time for reflections has long passed. What families deserve now is action.