Happy holidays everyone! Happy whatever various celebrations you might be doing! It’s been a crazy semester here at the Big Gay BlogTM, and I hope all of you made it through the horrific stress of the exam period and have a chance to rest now. This holiday period can drag up all sorts of thoughts and feelings, and everyone experiences it differently, so here’s a little collection of different thoughts and feelings and experiences which you can compare and contrast with your own!
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| ID: other erin's Christmas tree in St Andrews. |
I find myself acting and thinking quite differently, more than just insofar as I didn’t have the time to knit a single stitch in the last few weeks of last semester but have knitted up multiple Christmas gifts now. Going away from university is simultaneously a reminder of the big scary real world and infantilising, because now I’m back in a world where my parents are, and where they actively do things for me and also observe everything I do (which stops me from doing anything). In St Andrews I had to be on all the time, and now I’ve been able to notice just how burnt out I got.
I can now see some of my favourite people in the world for the first time in three entire months, even if I now can’t see all my other favourite people in the world. Being able to almost automatically slot back in to old comfortable relationships is incredibly reassuring given how much time I’ve spent worrying about losing friends to the lurking shadow of graduation. It turns out friends can be friends even if you hardly see them! I’m always terrified about things coming to an end and having to leave them behind, and perhaps this month-and-a-little-bit away from St Andrews can be a medicine to help me get used to the endless onward movement of life.
X
other erin
A few weeks ago I was in the Union, it was four p.m. but the windows were already black, of course, all I could see was a string of lights draped around the patio outside. I don’t know if it was put up for the holidays or if it’s always there. Anyway, a year is a long time and here it was over. I felt like I was looking down a tunnel to the end of my life. I was resigned, not panicked, I was absolutely certain about what I saw, and I knew that my one choice going forward was to face it with dignity or not. What I mean is that this season is sure to cause me a whole existential drama. Does this happen to anyone else? Anything that comes back around each year, like a birthday or Christmas, is weighted with all prior instances, and these are blurred together, as if all my past Christmases occurred over a single day, and exist together in a kind of snow globe (if you will). Going home after you’ve left it does the same thing. It’s strange to discover things have carried on without you, stranger to discover they’ve carried on in the exact same way. It arrests time’s forward motion and also emphasises it. The cat still sleeps in the same spot on my bed, though the room is unoccupied most of the time now. My brother is still always putting to me some moral dilemma, trying to catch me out. “Wouldn’t you press a button to kill one random person if it meant you got a hundred million dollars?” No, I wouldn’t. “Yes, you would.” I mean, why am I having these conversations?
By Eliza (she/her)
(The Trials and Tribulations of Having a Merry Christmas)
TW: mentions of disordered eating and weight.
Everybody’s relationship to Christmas changes over the years. When we’re children, Christmas seems like the best thing in the whole universe. It’s just us and our presents against the world. When we’re teenagers, the focus turns to younger family members. We stop believing in Father Christmas and receiving toys and move on to books, clothes and money. We grumble as teenagers do when we open the package and find thermal socks (please give me thermal socks Scotland is freezing). But at 19, we want those clothes and that money. Heck, I’d take a Tesco gift card with open arms. My relationship to Christmas and Winter has become difficult the past few years. My mum has always made Christmas special for me, no matter my age. She is the best part of Christmas to me. She even makes me my own advent calendar. This year, when I only went home on the 18th of December, she made a Whatsapp group chat with just me and her where she sent me a picture of a little gift every day that was waiting for me at home. However, last year she got COVID and wasn’t able to spend Christmas with me for the first time in my life. I was stuck with my family, and this is where all the things I hate about Christmas became clear.
Firstly: family. I don’t see my family very often, so every time I do I get the usual “You’ve gotten so pretty!” and “have you lost weight?” You look so much healthier!”. From time to time, I’ll even get comments about the size and quality (yes you read that right) of my boobs. Now of course, the truth is I haven’t changed much since the last time they saw me. I haven’t noticeably lost or gained weight, my cup size is more or less the same (although who cares??), I haven’t suddenly become pretty, and I am certainly not distinctly more or less healthy. But nevertheless, I will unavoidably have to hear these opinions. They may seem like compliments, but those who relate to what I’m saying will understand they’re not. Was I not pretty six months ago? Did everyone apparently think I was ugly? (Clearly not, since I heard the same thing last year.) And not only do I have to hear these comments, these people expect a response, and I don’t think they’d want to hear what I’m actually thinking.
Secondly: the food. Ah, the joys of a complicated relationship with eating and food. Everything I eat is analysed. Not only by me, but by the whole family! I’ve already sat at the table and eaten nothing but vegetables, and yet when I said no to a third clementine because I was too full, I was accused of “hating fruit” and “being unhealthy”. It’s not just the food that’s analysed. It’s my facial expressions, my outfit, my makeup, my words. The truth is, I can’t do everything right. And although my family has no interest in what I study, what I read or what I’m passionate about, they’ll still find a way to criticise the few things I have to say. Which sticks out like a sore thumb since I’m always the youngest one at Christmas and the part of my family that gets together is quite small.
Thirdly: I met my current partner at the very first Sinners during Freshers’ Week 2024. As silly as this may sound, they’ve been a rock for me every day since. They form part of my amazing circle in St Andrews, which includes my close friends I love so much. I’ve struggled with certain friendships and people both this semester and last, and my partner has helped a lot through it all. Living abroad entails that the holidays mean being away from those who are now an integral part of my life for over a month, with up to a six hour time difference, something that is hard in a way that being away from my “original” home isn’t.
However, now that I’ve had my chance to be a Scrooge, let me write about what I love. I love the pantomime, the biscuits, the Christmas markets, the mulled cider, the chance to go home and see my friends in Paris, exchanging presents with my partner, the Christmas crackers, the tree and lights, the films. I love my mum and I love being the one who makes her feel special too now at Christmas, since she rarely used to receive the special treatment she gave to others. I don’t hate Christmas, far from it. I have been immensely lucky in my life for what I have received and every Christmas I’ve had. Although the things I dislike take up more of my writing, that’s only because I also want to address those who understand where I’m coming from and struggle at the holidays too. I see you. I get it. You’re not ungrateful, you’ve just had personal experiences that are different, and that’s completely okay.
Merry Christmas to all of you, and a Happy New Year.
By Mathilde (she/her)
I’ve had the same advent calendar for most of my life and this year is the first time this advent calendar is staying with me in St Andrews. For the past two years it has served as decoration but now it has been finally restored to its former glory. My advent calendar is shaped like a large red house, with a snow covered rooftop and a large light blue door. Every day, you open one of the windows to discover whatever treat is waiting inside. The two best things about it are the double windows which have double the space for double the treats, and that the door is for opening on the 25th day, so you get a delicious extra present on Christmas Day.
When I was younger, I was desperate to open the next window. Each afternoon and evening I’d stalk around it like a hungry fox and wait impatiently for the morning so I could open the next one. Sneakily, I also used to (on occasion), open the windows of future days to discover what kinds of chocolates were waiting for me (I think my neurodivergence was kicking in - I’m not a fan of surprises). I thought I was clever and that my parents didn’t know. They knew…of course they knew…
This year my homely advent calendar is stocked with precious energy to power me through exam season. With deadlines and darkening skies, the only light for me every morning and the only motivation is knowing that a small piece of marzipan awaits in the kitchen. With age, the magic of my advent calendar hasn’t really changed, but the source of that magic certainly has. What was once an extra treat, is now a reward for waking up and sitting in front of my laptop all day. I know I could open all of the windows at once now that I live alone, but I won’t. I think we all need all the magic we can get!
By Mariya (they/them)