The Anatomy of a Holiday As Told By a Highly Sensitive & Anxious Empath

"You ruin every holiday and special day, Melissa."

This is a sentiment I have heard repeatedly since I was a child and something I have, unfortunately, decided to take into adulthood and namely into every relationship. "The Holidays"-that time between Halloween and New Year's Day-are my favorite time of year. I have always loved spooky things and scary movies, my birthday is the day after Halloween. Thanksgiving has always been an opportunity for my binge eating disorder to shine full force without having to hide and Christmas-well shit, Christmas is just magical. I hated school as a child and looking back I can clearly see it was due to my raging anxiety disorder and people pleasing that didn't work on 3rd graders who thought I was teacher's pet (I was) and trying too hard to be their friend (I was). So, having more than a week off was a bonus to the already magical time of year. And even as a child I made New Year's resolutions. I was 8-years-old and vowed "to lose weight and be a better friend." Not much has changed in 30 years...

It's not an accident this post comes the week of Thanksgiving, because I am burdened with dread that I will ruin the day. To be clear, I'm not planning to, I never do. It's not premeditated. It's not for attention (despite what some family members and ex-lovers think), it is a direct result of my own pressure and outrageous expectations, people pleasing, over-stimulation, and over-peopling. I want to be perfect-the perfect girlfriend, the perfect host, the perfect example of "The Holidays." It makes sense that most of my favorite holiday movies center around everything going wrong (National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation; Home for the Holidays), because they make me feel less alone.

The overwhelm of the upcoming week is creating a pressure cooker in my mind, shoulders, and chest. My breathing shallows and I realize I have been hunching my back for hours. I'm exhausted and shutting down emotionally. I'm in isolation mode which doesn't make for a gracious hostess. So I will likely overcompensate on the day in the hopes no one can see I'm a shell of a human and just trying to "get through." Then the guilt about all of this self-focus comes into play like a professional athlete who never gets the ball. The guilt will be my demise as it renders me useless and incompetent. The guilt will cause me to second guess simple tasks, leaving my partner to either pick up my slack or explain to me how to measure flour, with the patience of a goddamn saint. There's even the guilt of me writing this, acknowledging how self-absorbed my mental illness makes me. The irony of having mental illness and being a therapist is I am constantly aware of what my mental illness is doing to me and the people around me. It's a hell I can rarely escape, save for sleeping and binge eating.

I have been working on being less self-focused, attempting to unburden myself from hanging onto disappointment and resentment that perpetuates a victim mentality that is ugly and characteristic of people in my life I don't respect. But my mental illness demands constant vigilance and awareness or I risk having a savage meltdown, complete with tears and hyperventilating. Thus proving the theory right: Melissa ruins every special day.

My questions: how do I acknowledge and care for my mental illness without letting it dictate my life and the lives around me? How do I know when I need a break or when I'm being rude and anti-social? How do I know when I've pushed myself too far before it's too late? And most importantly, how do I survive the holidays without "ruining them" but while also being authentic and honest and real?

For now, all I have to say is: