The Dreaded Christmas To-Do List with ME/POTS
– Is yours a) long and unmanageable, or b) short n sweet?
– Do you feel a) overwhelmed, or b) in control?
– Are you a) at risk of crashing/relapsing, or b) pacing and resting properly?
If you answered ‘a’ to any of the above and happen to suffer with M.E/POTS, then it’s probably time to dial things down.
However, if you’re anything like me … you won’t.
Resting and pacing is a bitch at the best of times, but it’s an absolute mega-bitch at Christmas. I wish I had some brilliant, insightful, life-changing advice on this subject – but the truth is, when it comes to navigating the festive period … I wear myself out every damn year without fail.
And why?
… Because I want my kid to have a magical Christmas, and he’ll be lucky to get a lump of coal and a pat on the head if I leave the organising up to Pete.
SO … off I fuck, every December – despite my restricting and occasionally debilitating chronic illness – to do the following:
Presents
I’ll start by spending eternity with my 7-year-old son, O, going through the Smyths Toys website creating his most prized Christmas wish list yet! Then, I will feel ridiculously overwhelmed as I price everything up, and select what toys we can actually afford, whilst ruling out items made of plastic crap.
Then, I will look for something to allocate to members of the entire family – that falls within everyone’s respective budgets – who have emailed/messaged me looking for gift suggestions for O. Now, having spent way too much time and energy on making our own present list affordable – this task is a real treat! Wait … no, it’s not. I’m usually feeling a little stressed by now, so if I run out of Lego that falls within people’s budgets, I will make my life easier by allocating – you guessed it – plastic crap.
Naturally, I will insist they have those gifts delivered straight to me, which I will lovingly wrap on their behalf – which will seem like a Very Nice Thing, given how busy we all are – when really, I offer because I’m a control freak who needs to know that everything has definitely arrived in time for Christmas Day for my beautiful boy. The pitfall to my Very Nice Thing is, I then have way more presents to wrap on top of the ones that are actually from me and Pete. This does nothing to help me rest and pace so my ME/POTS doesn’t flare up. But I’ve done it to myself, so I shouldn’t complain when the fatigue hits. Except, I probably will. I mean, how else will Pete know what a fucking hero I am?
Throughout this festive gift organising, I must also work out what to buy my mother, father, brother, niece and nephew. I will feel bad that my in-laws are lucky just to get a card from my husband who is too busy working and cooking and generally being too fabulous for these gift-giving shenanigans, but am self-aware enough to recognise I’m running out of time and spoons to do everything – and thus – can’t do presents for them too.
Activities
Buy and attend all the festive activities I know O will love. I’m talking a ride on the Elf Express (or Santa Train as we call it) where the elves will put on a fab festive performance which O will enjoy immensely whilst trundling along the train tracks waiting for Santa to appear and gift him a present made of plastic shit that he will LOVE, whilst I wolf down the free mince pie and mulled wine – thus helping me to give zero fucks about said plastic shit or the sensory overload on my poor brain.
Seventy-two hours later we will visit Santa in his grotto (where he clearly has MUCH more time – 10mins in fact! – to devote solely to O and the Very Important question of whether he’s been a good boy, and what he’d like most from his beloved wish list – followed by a family tea out afterwards.
Another day we’ll go to the theatre for the obligatory annual Christmas Panto (Oh, No We Won’t! But really, Oh Yes We Will!). And if I’m really on the ball that December, we’ll also go and watch the local Christmas lights being turned on, and another day go for a browse around the local Christmas market.
We will eat warm mince pies, and in my case – drink mulled wine at every opportunity – and have an all-round magical fucking time because O’s Santa-believing years are numbered and it makes me want to cry a river, and I therefore want to cram in EVERYTHING whilst his little heart is so young and his eyes are so wide with wonder. And we WILL enjoy it, dammit.
As such – despite the sensory tsunami, migraines, and the fact my insides are dying a little more each day – my ME/POTS can still go and fuck itself.
Social Life
I must try and muster up the strength for a night ‘off’ to go out for Christmas dinner and drinks with my friends – even if all my body wants to do is curl up in bed and decompose. And why?
… Because Mama needs a fucking break and a laugh with her mates to help her unwind, like a normal human being. That’s why. On this occasion I may push myself a LOT when I definitely shouldn’t, carefully applying my fancy Victoria Beckham eyeliner that I save for special occasions (well, it IS Christmas!) as I try to ignore the crippling fatigue and nausea trying to steamroller me into bed. BUT – rather importantly – I’m kind to myself about it. Because it’s NOT my fault I have ME/POTS, and it’s NOT my fault I want to have a nice dinner with my friends … like a normal person at Christmas.
School emails, daily life and unicorns
Throughout all of the above, I must also keep up with the endless emails from school; Christmas dinner day, Christmas jumper day, buying/creating an appropriate costume for O to wear in the school nativity, attend said nativity, parents evening (WHY have it in December folks … WHY?!), attend winter fair whilst dodging anyone who looks remotely like they are recruiting for the PTFA. (Fuck no, I NEVER want to join the PTFA! Instead, I will throw a fuckload of money at many overpriced slices of homemade cake and second-hand cuddly toys with questionable stains on to appease my guilt and show my appreciation for all the hard work they do), and of course … throw money in every collection pot to buy a gift for every teacher who so much as glanced in my child’s direction since September. (To be fair, they do amazing work and deserve a treat. But could we not maybe give them a ‘Happy New Year’ gift in January instead, when we’ve finished dealing with all of the aforementioned Christmas stressors?)
Do regular life, housework, emails, laundry etc.
Do all of the above whilst resting LOTS and pacing like a queen, to help manage my increasingly deteriorating ME/POTS.
… Like the magical fucking unicorn I am.
Elves and shelves
As for the Elf On The Bastarding Shelf? WELL. She can fuck right off too.
Our elf is low maintenance; her name is Elfie (imaginatively named by O when he was about three years old), and doesn’t get up to any tricks. She spends her days watching O’s behaviour, and her nights flying to the North Pole to advise Santa if he’s been naughty or nice. And if he’s nice more than he’s naughty, then Santa will reward him on Christmas Day. Bish bash bosh, job done. The only effort I have to make, is placing her in a different hidey spot each night after she ‘returns’ from the North Pole. No silliness, naughtiness, and zero thinking of – and then spending energy I don’t have on – creating clever, witty scenes and mess that I will then have to clean up myself. Balls to that! After trying to keep up with everything else on my To-Do list, I am fresh out of spoons, and probably in mega spoon debt by about 5 months.
And anyway, O is totally happy with Elfie the way she is, and gets plenty of enjoyment from coming downstairs each morning to look for whereabouts she’s landed/hiding that day. I mean, fair play to those who enjoy all that elf ‘chaos’. But for me, that would definitely be my tipping point since Mama Bear here struggles to rest and pace enough in December as it is.
Plus, as I hurtle at lightening speed towards my annual Christmas mega-crash, where I mostly curl up and die from a massive ME flare up that can leave me bedridden anytime from Christmas Day onwards, the last thing I need is:
… A tiny Elf sprawled out in a giant mess of my own making, taking the fucking piss out of me. 😆
Merry Christmas
This blog was inspired by a lady who replied to my ‘I’m suggestible!’ post on Facebook, inviting followers to offer up suggestions of things they’d like to see me write about (this invitation is of course open to website subscribers too!). This lady struggles with the Christmas period, as I’m sure most of us with ME do. I desperately wanted to write something loaded with ME-friendly tricks and tips for getting through the season in one piece to help her. But, I can only write what I know. And what I know is … I haven’t figured it out just yet.
However, I hope this follower and others with chronic illness struggling to keep up at Christmas can instead take comfort in the knowledge that – you’re not alone. Many of us with ME/POTS are also out here, struggling during the festive period. Try and take heart from this and the knowledge that there is a supportive community here who totally ‘gets it,’ and never judges.
Merry (early) Christmas everyone. I hope you all enjoy the festive period in whatever small way your body will allow. Here’s hoping that all of us wake up on Christmas morning with an abundance of shiny new spoons waiting for us under the tree.
… Or at the very least, some fab new socks and cosy pyjamas. ❤
