It’s December 26th…3:26 in the morning. I awoke in somewhat of a sticky sweat. Not so much sweaty but more so lightly glistening on the springy pullout couch in my childhood bedroom. I’m restless. I had dozed off a couple hours prior whilst re-runs of Abbott elementary played in the background. I will myself out of bed as I know only one way to extinguish the feelings of anguish building up inside of me. Now on my feet in total darkness I swank over to the light switch. In one smooth motion I flip the switch to turn on the ceiling fan before collapsing back over onto the bed and under the covers. Christmas had once again come and gone. It felt dissimilar this year. A blessed Christmas nonetheless. A beautiful morning spent mourning the Christmases that had past. 3:33 in the morning. The white noise of the ceiling fan combined with the low hum of the heater seem to restore peace in me. I lay still…not petrified but slightly stiff. Every year around this time I read and watch all the think pieces and videos that come out from my generation complaining about how “Christmas no longer feels like Christmas.” I’ve always rolled my eyes at the argument…why would Christmas today feel like it did when we were kids? Being a kid was indeed the magic. However, that kid still lives inside us all if we know how to embrace it. It isn’t about embracing your inner child though totally. A lot has changed. The world, our views of people…ourselves. We’ve grown up in a lot more ways than one. I grew up in a family where all of my aunts, uncles, and cousins would gather at a central location to celebrate the holidays: my grandmother’s. Of course with life doing as life does, people passing away, etc…that is no longer the normal and hasn’t been for close to a decade now. While I have no beef with the quieter holidays amongst my immediate family that are now routine; I often find myself wondering how different things would be had nothing changed. 4:08 in the morning. I hear a car moving down the street. I always hated the way people would cut through the neighborhood to avoid traffic. My perspective on things has changed a lot as I’ve grown older. How I approach speaking…not speaking. The way I observe before falling back. I am a bigger note taker now than ever before. Which at times I feel may cause me more harm than good. I remember everything vividly in color. The details, even the ones left out, the subtle shade. I’m an over thinker. Average achiever. Another car zooms past, a slither of the headlights glides over my ceiling through a crack in the window blinds. I’ve learned so much about myself over the years. But at 4:19 in the morning I can’t really wrap my head around why “Christmas no longer feels like Christmas.” Was it the stomach bug I caught a day before making the trek home? Or the fact that I didn’t assist with any decorations? Maybe I’m burnt out. The cursor blinking back at me as my pupils fight to keep the words on screen from looking like alphabet soup. No one can help me define this feeling. 4:30 in the morning. I think Christmas still feels like Christmas. Sure not in the way of being ecstatic to open up gifts first thing that morning, but Christmas still feels like Christmas because there is hope and of course love. There are still plenty of traditions, food, loved ones, lights, and movies to cling to at Christmas to make it feel like Christmas. Again here is my growth in perspective. My leg is now crossed at the knee while writing this. A lot more confident at 4:38 than I was at 3:26. See Christmas can still feel like Christmas if you put in the work much like anything else. So why am I awake at almost 5 am the morning after Christmas mourning Christmas? Well it’s because I know things have changed, but I also know that that is totally okay. That just because things are not exactly as they were does not make them any less. Christmas may not feel like Christmas when you aren’t being present. I laughed a lot today watching my nephew enjoy his Christmas. I smiled a lot today just knowing that my mother was happy to have the house full with us. A lot of the wisdom I’ve gained over the years I try to spread to others. Often times to my mother in hopes of keeping her as sharp as possible. To have her here for as long as possible. Mothers are strong and loving but stubborn. I’ll never know what that is like. So yes I know that things have changed but I believe for the better. 5:00 am in the morning. A bird sends a couple errant chirps outside my window. I take these as warning shots for me as I have maybe 4 hours of quiet if I’m lucky before my nephew is awake and terrorizing the house like the green goblin.

If you made it this far with me I really appreciate it. I’ve put plenty in the vault these past couple years in fear of being seen. A fear of being perceived. So none of the support goes unnoticed. Be sure to follow me everywhere and especially the blog so you don’t miss a brain dump in case I disappear fall off socials. 

This go round I’m dropping playlists with each post. If you know me I love curating playlists and I’m always doing it so I’m hoping that habit stacking that with writing will keep me honest. 

Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3WwmigesuAIFbP76EceEiQ?si=arP0L4EWSnO4aJbX24wJNw&pi=u-HFZL0tP3RmaO

Apple Music: https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/blackgradlife-the-mourning-after-christmas/pl.u-oRkRtqdMBrN

Again I really appreciate the time spent reading as well as any feedback. I’m open to suggestions or topics you’d like to read my thoughts on. If you’re new welcome in! If you’re returning after I ghosted we’re locked in forever.

Happy new year!

Joe©️

BlackGradLife