Err-grumpft

Lately I've been feeling a feeling for which I have no word, so I'll try a bunch. Overwhelmed. Grumpy. Blue. Inadequate. Socially stunted. I'm unhappy about how poorly I feel like I'm keeping up with things. Work. Relationships. Dishes. Calling my mother after every round of medical tests. Groceries. Spiritual development. Laundry. Reading. Those five dozen things on my to-do list, some of which have been there since just after my wedding 18 months ago. We shan't even mention the Christmas to-dos.

It's a feeling that I think ought to have a word. Probably the Germans have a word for it but I'll be damned if I know what it is. So I've decided to make up a German-sounding word for it. Err-grumpft.

There are lots of things I can tell myself about being err-grumpft. I'm really doing just fine at work and it's only the little, less important thing that slide when things are really hectic. It's the yearly bout of seasonal affective disorder and this too shall pass. It's OK to be bummed about the fact that my mom's been sick. The dishes and the laundry (and the dentist and the wedding photos) will all be there tomorrow, and next week, and next year.

And really it all comes back to the same old same old. I'm too much of a perfectionist than is good for my mood and I'm not at all at peace with my perfectionism. A couple of phrases reverberate in my memory. "You don't always have to be strong" and "You're so hard on yourself."

You don't always have to be strong. This memory is an uncomfortably clear moment -- all that remains of a night blacked out by alcohol. Lots of alcohol. It was the night of my 22nd birthday. The night of the last "Burn This" performance. I'm sitting on the floor in the kitchen of theatre house, Andrea beside me. Bob Grant sits across from me looking like for all the world like I hit him. (Did I?) I must have muttered something about being strong -- I may have been talking to my stomach -- and Andrea says, "Trish, you don't always have to be strong." And I cried, "Yes, I do. See what happens when I’m not." Then I threw up again.

You're so hard on yourself. I'm sitting in the car with Jagu full of great Indian food and great conversation. It wasn't what he said. The sentence was not original or unfamiliar. It was the kind of thing that people say to me all the time and I hardly even hear because it... Well, it just doesn't fit, or it isn't so, or so what. Whatever. But it was different when Jagu said it because he said it with such poigniant, incisive sympathy. And I listened. I didn't just hear it, I listened. Then I burst into tears.

So what's different? I've always been a perfectionist and so I've probably been err-grumpft all my life to one degree on or another. Why make up the word now?

Life seems to be so much more complicated than it used to be. There are so many more expectations. More expectations, more opportunities to be imperfect. And now we're approaching Christmas -- a season of expectations and attempts at perfection. It tipped me over the edge of err-grumpft.

In the middle of all of this I read this article about the Charlie Brown Christmas special. There are a couple articles on this topic that have been written this week, but this one best appeals to my err-grumpftness.

Schulz understood the heart of Christmas lay not in such showy outward traditions, but in the tender yearnings annually inspired deep inside us by the promise of peace and love, togetherness and merry moments. All the mercantile tinsel piled upon the modern yule could make Christmas sag under the burden.

...

Every year, we get our hopes up that at Christmastime, no matter our state before or after, this moment will be perfect. And every year, we are, like Charlie Brown, let down by Christmas' failure to meet our elevated expectations.

And if that weren't enough, now we have to worry about which side of the Merry Christmas vs. Happy Holidays debate we are on. It's beyond "if you aren't with us you are against us." It's "if you aren't with us to the exclusion of all others you are against us." Peace on earth and goodwill, indeed.