Content note: This post alludes to suicidal ideation and eating disorders, but doesn’t go into specifics.
December has been a lonely month for me for a long time.
As a kid and adolescent, I gravitated towards Paganism, and developed a distaste for the way Christmas was constantly shoved down our throats. That resentment conveniently masked another, deeper resentment that I was feeling, which was about the lies that Christmas adverts tell about happy families and full cupboards and joy. On the radio, billboards and TV, kids with dads who loved them tore into wrapping paper with abandon. Twinkling lights framed family photos wherein everyone was smiling. Thin women ate wedges of Yule log while my eating disorder consumed me. Slowly, one resentment overtook the other and continued to grow, cementing the fact I felt shut out of some warm room, where people more normal than me were laughing.
It has helped to learn that other people struggle with Decembers too, that the saccharine adverts and bright lights and big parties poke at other people’s wounds as well. That bittersweet solidarity is the entire reason I’ve invented Don’t Die December – because I know it’s hard not to die this month. I really, really know.
It didn’t (and doesn’t) help that the end of the calendar year makes me reflect on the past 11 or so months. I’ve always tended towards negative thinking, which keeps one safe when there’s danger but which, for me, can very easily spiral into thoughts and feelings that don’t 100% match reality. This year, I’ve done dozens of hours of work with an occupational therapist, been abroad for the first time since I was 8, given blood a bunch of times, survived a march at London Trans Pride, and so much more, but my brain will never think it’s “enough” to have achieved in a year. I know other people will be feeling this too, so I’d encourage you to ask yourself whether you’d ever tell another human, one you love, that they’ve wasted an entire year, or haven’t achieved “enough” for the year to have been worth surviving. Typically we hold ourselves to a much higher standard than we do others, but if there’s one month to be especially fair to yourself, it’s this one.
For a couple of years now, I’ve made certificates for every day of December, celebrating the fact that we’ve made it through another 24 hours. I post them on X and on Instagram – I can’t promise it’ll be at the same time every day, but they’ll be there. You can do whatever you like with these certificates – download ‘em, look at ‘em, print ‘em out for your fridge or scrapbook or papering your walls. All I really want is to inject a moment into your day that reminds you that you aren’t alone in this, people want you to live, and we see how hard it is for you. (I also have some merch up my sleeve to celebrate the completion of Don’t Die December, some of the profits from which will go to UK suicide prevention charity Samaritans, so keep an eye on my Twitter/X account for that!)
I know it’s easy to see a post insisting that you matter, that the world is lucky you’re alive and that you’re not alone and to think, “That applies to other people, sure, but I’m different. I’m uniquely undeserving of love and life in a way you couldn’t possibly understand.” I’ve had those thoughts. I’ve met a lot of excellent, lovable people who have had those thoughts. Your brain is the most effective liar you’ll ever encounter, because it knows exactly which lies you’re going to believe. These are lies – you are a human, you matter, and I’m rooting for you to get all the way through this December and through many more to come.
