Sanity Island

I really love going to work this time of year. One would think that the holidays would bring out all sorts of nuttiness. They do indeed. A colleague mentioned recently that Christmas started around Halloween this year. The reference was not to holiday merchandising blitzes which come earlier with each passing year, but to the ghosts of Christmases past and those of Christmas present which unsettle the people we treat. Those who mourn, who are depressed, who are sick, who are damaged feel their pain more intensely in contrast to the holly-jolly-very merriness of the season. There is always so much disappointment when magical fantasies do not come true.

And there are the annual family battles which get played out with renewed, reflexive vigor. Where to put the Christmas tree? When to put up the tree? Whose family do we grace with our presence, for how long, in what order? Where to attend services or if one attends services? And what if other members of the family are feuding? How do people avoid picking sides? Fa-la-la-la-la..., la-la-la-LA!

Yet, when I go into our little building and the door closes behind me, I shut out the Christmas carols blaring out over loud speakers and lights blinking in the park next door. I enter an island of sanity, where I don't think about shopping, wrapping, cooking, decorating, tinsel or to-do. I don't decorate my office except for a little sleigh which was made by the grateful wife of one of my patients. I welcome other people to my island and do my best to help them get through the season. When they leave I hope that they take some of the peace with them.