First of all, what’s really funny about the photo above is that IT’S NOT A SET-UP. Honest. I did a double-take four years ago when I drove through a tiny rural Ontario village and spotted this lawn scene.

I couldn’t believe these people put their recycling and garbage in front of Jesus and his folks. Miraculously, I had my digital camera with me.

What were they thinking? …’tis holier to recycle? Hell, I agree, but let’s not get fanatical about it.

Anyway, this little faux pas is NOTHING compared to the visions of disaster dancing in my head about the upcoming season.

If ADHD is a context-driven disorder (which, apparently, it is), then Christmas has got to be the most loaded context going.

Even the name. Christmas. I don’t even know if I’m allowed to call it that anymore. What about my Pagan, Jewish, athiest, Buddhist, Hindu, and anti-religious friends? I’m sure they have their fair share of ADHDers, too. And they’re probably antsy as well, in this time of elevated busy-ness and heightened expectations.

Talk about a symptom-stirrer.

Gifts I’ve yet to receive

Take organization. Planning a holiday of this magnitude’s gotta take some of that, right? I’m breaking into a cold sweat just thinking about planning a Yule-time soiree. Remember the Pomegranate Fiasco? How much worse will it be if I try to whip up some Egg Nog? I’ll end up with egg on my face, I just know it…

And social skills? I keep asking Santa for those, but I must have been very naughty, ’cause he hasn’t come through for me yet.

Shopping? Not a chance. I’d rather be mucking the stalls for Rudolph and the boys. (True story, check out my down on the farm experiences).

Lighten up, Zoë

Ok, I admit it. I’m being a tad negative.

Let’s think about some of the good things of the season.

1) I have little contact with my family. That simplifies things.

2) I can’t afford to buy gifts. Again, keeps things simple. No money, no shopping, no crowds, no heebie-jeebies at the mall where I’d just get over-stimulated, end up standing in some interminable line where I’d crack up, give up, and go home – forgetting I’m still holding my unpaid-for purchases, setting off the alarm and landing in jail. Overnight. On Christmas Eve. ‘Cause I was (you guessed it) waiting until the last possible minute to go shopping.

3) I can fend off invitations from my married friends by making plans with my one other (single) Christmas-phobe friend. This lets us both honestly claim that we already have plans. Maybe this year, I’ll let her cancel at the last minute, leaving us each to spend a blissful, non-complicated day to ourselves. Now, that’s my idea of festive.

My one concession: chocolate. There must be chocolate, and lots of it. I think I can manage that.

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    Last reviewed: 4 Nov 2010