Desaturated Christmas

Ah, Christmas, how would I yearn for thee with all my heart.

I don’t know about everyone else but Christmas, in addition to what it means from a Catholic faith standpoint, is a special time of respite for me. Back when I was young I would cast aside all worries about school and feel free and unburdened from everything during the accustomed Christmas break.

The amazing relief of not having to wake up early and no homework or tests to worry about was just pure bliss. It was three or so weeks of me and my video games in a Christmas vacation that’d usually end mere hours before my birthday.

And don’t get me started on the food, oh man, the food…from the Hallacas that my mom and grandmother made, to the Pernil, my aunt’s salad, and the quintessential Pan de Jamon, all of it was worth waiting the whole year for. Those wonderful times are unfortunately, faint memories now, never to return. After all that I’ve been through in the past years, Christmas just hasn’t been what it used to be for me, no matter what I do, and no matter how hard I try.

Had this year had gone more in my favor and things gone according to my plans then I would certainly not be writing these words from the confines of my small bedroom and instead, would had written a completely different type of personal post, as it would’ve been the first Christmas that both my brother and I would’ve hypothetically spent on a different country. The first of many, in a hypothetical new life that after nearly four years of fighting, hasn’t materialized yet — because while 2021 gave me some good things, it also dealt me a series of resounding defeats and setbacks that I’m still trying to recover from.

But beyond the hypotheticals and the what ifs, one fact remains: both my brother and I will have to spend another Christmas alone, just the two of us. As much as I enjoy his silent company, this doesn’t get any easier for the two of us.

In a practical sense, this Christmas is a more ‘normal’ one than last year, much more normal than last year’s for sure. The circumstances of the COVID-19 pandemic are something Venezuela as a whole has fully adapted to live with, much like the resignation of any political change in the country.

Life simply goes on as usual, and the spirit of Christmas has made itself present, punctual as ever. You can see it in almost every street, which are rather busy these days, and in the people, as they carry on with their regular lives in addition to any of their Christmas-related affairs. Everyone is trying to have a Christmas depending on their budget and livelihood conditions, just as it’s always been the case down here. The country is a mess, but that hasn’t deterred it’s people from seeking festive joy whenever possible.

Yet, despite the relatively normal Christmas atmosphere and the overall air of stagnant tranquility that we breathe these days, it doesn’t really feel like Christmas to me. I can’t seem to grasp the festive joys of Christmas this time around. I cannot see its full colors, I cannot fully appreciate the music nor taste the flavors of the season, and I can’t seem to get any kind of respite.

At first, I completely attributed it to the lingering but still present feelings derived from my latest (and worst) defeat with regards to obtaining a US visa, plus the uncertainty of what am I going to do, or where should I flee towards if I can’t get a US visa — after all, my efforts, successes, and failures not only will determine my future, but that of my brother’s as well.

The weight of my piled up mental burdens have significantly worn me down lately and I’ve begun to self-doubt myself like never before, something that, I must confess, terrifies me. I need to regain my balance and get back on my feet, but I keep stumbling over and over, which is why I selfishly decided to detach myself from as much things as possible and seek some respite, because if I can’t grasp the spirit of Christmas then I might as well try to get some rest and distract myself through the one thing I can do: video games.

Be that as it may, I didn’t go too far with that endeavor until I had to focus on a new problem, in the form of my brother’s fractured molar. As it stands, we’re awaiting for his next consultation and the results of the panoramic x-ray to see what’s the best course of action. I certainly am a deficient paternal figure, but I’m all he’s got, and he’s all I got, I’m doing everything in my power to ensure his well being first and foremost.

I’ve barely been able to focus during these past days, and I’ve been sleeping even less than usual. Nevertheless, I keep trying to grasp the spirit of Christmas, not through a material and consumerist sense, but through faith and prayer, because what else can I do these days but to pray. I’m trying to find some form of solace so that I can renew my hope amidst an ever growing despair, and what better way to start than through the assembling of our Nativity Scene