Hey baa!
Where is your place in all of this? It may be at the kids' table.
The holiday season is as beautiful as it is treacherous. We surprise one another with thoughtful gifts. We also fight over politics and vow never to speak to the other again. Then, there are the outcasts and the black sheep, the people who never quite fit in and probably wouldn’t be missed or noticed. I’m pretty sure that’s where I fall.
Every family has one and, if you're depressed, you’re all too self-aware that it’s you. Isn’t that just wonderful? If you’re neurotypical, you may not know. There are signs, but you may not recognize them. So, how about a field guide to proverbially smashing your face in eggnog’s dregs?
People don’t seek you out for conversation. Outside of general politeness, nobody comes up to you to see how you’re doing. Nobody attempts to spark meaningful dialogue. Nobody says they were thinking of you. There are no special, shared memories with anyone. Not recently, anyway.
People don’t invite you to do anything with them. As a fly on the wall, you learn that other people hang out and have good times. They go to special places and do special things. Maybe they’ve all been to a party at a relative’s house, and you weren’t invited.
People have escape plans. You’ve engaged someone in conversation and that person is looking around the room. They’re looking for the nearest conversational exit. Then, when another person is nearby, they abruptly end your chat to strike up a conversation with someone else.
People sit you at the kids’ table. You’re the oldest in your generation of relatives but that hasn’t earned you the right to sit with the adults. Instead, you’re sitting at a folding card table with kids using sippy cups and are in their onesies.
People don’t notice that you’ve disappeared. Everything adds up and overwhelms you. You feel worthless, impotent. You go to a different room because you can’t hide your emotions and crying in front of your family won’t exactly improve your standing.
For all intents and purposes, I hope this doesn’t ring true for you. But if it does, I’ve got bad news: you’re the black sheep. We should form a support group.