One way or another, we know that the end of the year is difficult for everyone. However, I perceive a feeling of incapacity, anxiety, lack of adaptation and latent failure in each of us who feels that “he is not coping” in a worse way than the others. It’s as if we feel more off balance and hanging on by a thread than those around us, who seem to experience end-of-year exhaustion in a lighter or, at least, more functional way.
Psychically exhausted, we experience this end of the year as a sort of subjective “counting of accounts” which reveals the many accounts which are not closed: unachieved objectives, accumulated failures, silences on difficult subjects which we had sworn to bring to light, links which remained conflicting, a routine which took precedence over what was not urgent and which now shows us to what extent we have distanced ourselves from each other. Deep conversations were postponed, promised meetings rarely took place. Part of us understands that it is urgent to make room for friends, lovers and family with time, listening and affection. All of that was missed this year. But right now, when the schedule almost forces these meetings on us, we lack the energy, the will and even the emotional balance to socialize.
Operating in “energy saving mode”, we see meeting others not as an opportunity to recharge our batteries, but as a risk of exhausting what little remains. We live in histrionic times and December calls for excess: lots of celebrations, lots of shared joy, toasts to the new things to come. Contrary to this euphoria, there is in us an excess of fatigue and demands: “you should be happy”; “I should have gotten over this relationship by now”; “You should honor accomplishments instead of clinging to what didn’t happen.” This universe of unfulfilled duties feeds a particularly cruel superego – perhaps the only one that functions at full capacity at this time of year – which projects the imperative of optimism also onto those who love us and who, very often, were restful and not demanding. But now, it’s as if the invitations carry a “mandatory outfit” of lightness, communication and energy. A costume that today simply no longer suits us.
Given this, a common move has been emotional and physical withdrawal. We blame the traffic, the long meetings, the organization of dinner and, believing we are taking care of ourselves, we give ourselves the right to miss meetings. Reducing exposure to the gaze of others also seems to reduce the list of demands – real or imagined – of the roles we feel we must fulfill. Instead of being the friend who weighs down the mood or responds curtly because they don’t have the energy to talk about the divorce or the crisis at work, we choose to be the one who won’t.
But here an uncomfortable question arises: Is avoiding end-of-year gatherings a precaution or a form of emotional self-boycott? Could this be a way of slowing down so as not to collapse or, by distancing ourselves from others, do we run the risk of collapsing not because of an excess of stimuli, but because of the whirlwind of self-criticism and helplessness? All your ruminations are also with you at home. Thus, what is imagined as a refuge can, little by little, become a prison.
Psychoanalysis reminds us that we need others to give shape and containment to what we feel. Pain needs a witness to organize itself. What is not listened to and observed tends to repeat itself internally. And looking for witnesses is not asking for salvation. We worry about becoming another demand in the lives of overwhelmed people, but asking for a ride and companionship doesn’t mean demanding answers or plans for next year. It is to desire a shared humanity.
In times of exhaustion, asking for a ride is a healthy gesture. But for this, there is a preliminary step – perhaps the most difficult: accepting that we are not facing it. We live in a culture that glorifies strength and self-reliance. This is why many people suffer not only because of how they feel, but also because of the hatred they direct towards themselves because they are suffering.
This is where self-compassion becomes key. It is not a question of victimizing oneself, but of suspending one’s moral judgment on pain. Recognize: “it’s difficult”, “I’m not doing well at the moment”, without adding: “and that makes me weak”. This is perhaps the most radical gesture of care possible at the end of the year: recognizing limits without hating yourself for them and without isolating yourself because of them. Remember, those on the dates you’re avoiding are also exhausted and have probably also thought about canceling or disappearing. Just like you, they also accumulate failures and fears that speak louder than New Year’s wishes.
May you and yours “not cope” together. Demand fewer happy nights and treat yourself to gift nights, made for possible people and loves.
And if you also have a dilemma or a doubt about your emotional relationships, write to me at columnamorcronico@amorespossiveis.love. Every Wednesday I answer a question here.
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