Solstices and Solace

Rest and Restoration as Feminist Practice

On the winter solstice a couple of years ago, I went into the backyard with the kids (then two and four) and we collected flowers and branches to make a solstice wreath. It had been a quiet December, the pandemic shutdowns limiting holiday gatherings and events. I was both exhausted, from doing the majority of the childcare over my winter break, and bored, missing people and connections. I was also grieving because my father had died a few months before.

            I felt both alone and really connected as we made the wreath. We lived in Germany when I was child; Dad was stationed at a military weather station on the Moselle river. My memories of Christmas in Germany are spectacular: one year we went to a Christmas market and I remember the smell of roasting chestnuts as soft snowflakes fell. Our upstairs neighbors had a fresh Christmas tree, lit with real candles (with a bucket of water nearby to douse flaming branches). Mom and I took a wreath-making class and I remember the piney smell and the purple and white candles, and the excitement of the countdown to Christmas.

            I like the solstice because it is a universal holiday, a time for us in the northern hemisphere to reflect on light and darkness, to rest in the long nights and to remember loved ones. I thought about friends in Australia, who weren’t celebrating the darkness but who were in the longest day of the year. It made me hopeful, to think of them in summer, and to know ours was coming, that the next day would bring a little more light, that the nights would get shorter, the pandemic would eventually end, and that my feelings of grief and loss might ease.

            I missed Dad but my life didn’t change much when he died. He lived in Omaha, we only saw him occasionally. He didn’t send cards, or call very often. At Christmastime, when we all still lived at home, I know he did some things, like clean up the wrapping paper or do the dishes, but it was really Mom that made the holidays special. She worked full time and did most of the unpaid labor of running a household and raising two kids. I know now that holidays meant even more work for her, as it does for most American moms (the exception being for LGBTQ parents, here’s a good read on the gendering of holiday labor).

            When Stephen and I became parents, the weight of holiday work initially fell on me, both because I was gendered to do it and because I care a lot more about Christmas than he does. We’re trying to be equal parents, though, so every year he has taken on more. I’ve also been deciding when to do less, and this year I feel relaxed and happy about holiday work. We’ll do what we have time for, it won’t be perfect, but it will be a time our kids remember.

Decorating the tree, December 2020.

            The deep solitude of that first pandemic holiday season helped me to put some pieces together about being a mom. I had been so tired all of 2020, even though the kids were sleeping more. I read a book by a neuroscientist called Why We Sleep: Unlocking the Power of Sleep and Dreams. I got to the chapter on sleep disruptions and was surprised to read how alcohol disrupts sleep cycles, especially affecting the NREM sleep that helps with mood and creativity. I hadn’t been able to do much writing that year, for obvious reasons of just trying to work from home while simultaneously caring for children, and I had felt impatient and irritable with the kids (admittedly a hard combination of ages, but still). My friend Adrienne had recently quit drinking (highly recommend her recovery support program REVA), and I started to reflect on my own alcohol consumption, after a year that had seen an exponential rise in drinking to cope with the isolation of lockdowns, especially among women.

            That December, I had decided to stop drinking most nights. It’s been a couple of years now of very occasional drinks, and I’m sleeping much better, my moods have become more stable (also recommend these). Most importantly, I’ve been able to come back to writing, both here and in my literary scholarship. I’m really grateful to you all for being my readers, and I hope you are able to find rest and relaxation this month as we plan time to be with family and friends. Drink some mocktails, let go of holiday perfectionism, and go to bed early. Summer is waiting for us on the other side.

P.S. If you’re thinking about making changes, or feel like you need an understanding ear this holiday season, connect with my friend Rachel, who is hosting Rooted and Restored: Creating a Joyful Grounded Season series this month.