I know the pandemic is horrible. It brings great suffering to many, pain, and loss. There is no doubt about any of that. 25% of my son’s life has been restricted to the confines of his home. It is hard. But one positive thing that has come from the global pandemic is a realization that all people need time for prioritizing their own mental health. Employers, families, and schools have all jumped into valuing mental health. Today, CRA celebrated a mental health day.

Historically, December is a difficult month in our house. We are not a religious family and as parents, we have never fed into the Santa or Elf on a Shelf kind of activities. But, when your child struggles with anxiety, the apprehension of the year’s best gifts arriving soon is more than the child can self-manage.

It began on the night of December 1. As he laid in bed anticipating his second covid vaccine. In his mind, the second covid vaccine was his “ticket to freedom.” For two years, he had dreamed of the day he would be allowed to walk into an Apple Store. With the holiday quickly approaching, his longing for the new iPhone only grew more strong, making the ability to physically see one in person soon somewhat akin to a trip to Disney World. As he sat alone in his room that night, listening to his audio book and attempting to go to sleep, he began to pull his hair. By the time we knew what was happening, it was the morning of his covid vaccine and he had a quarter sized bald spot to show for his anxiety. Although he did fabulously with the shot itself, the date only brought with it more anticipation of the impending freedom and the holiday to come.

As concerned parents, we began staying with him at night until he was truly asleep to support his anxieties by his side. We downplayed the Christmas celebrations and continued on life as normal. But, my mother’s innocent question on December 7, “What is on your Christmas list this year?” was enough to send him over his already teetering edge. He became weepy like never before, he developed new audible tics (grunts as if he was laughing every 5 seconds), and continued to pull at his hair. He could not be left alone, needing to constantly be physically in my lap or by my side all day. Attending enrichments in the afternoons became a struggle and left him feeling angry. We were doing all that we knew how to do to support him. But, it was not enough.

On December 8, I decided enough was enough. We declared it a mental health day - called in sick to CRA and all enrichments. We spent the day together. I sat as a container for him to place his worries with, I helped him to process his apprehension and the roots of the anxiety that surrounds December for him. I gave him the tools to draw, to write, and to have dance parties all day.

In the end, it was the two chapter book he wrote about his “Christmas Pasts” that seemed most effective. We looked at pictures from years gone by - all the way to his first Christmas at 4 months old. I gave him space to process his memories and feelings about each year, I listened.

Along with the dance parties, we filled our day with sensory experiences by making festive stovetop potpourri and cookies.

We practiced coping strategies for waiting such as drawing, digging in sensory bins, and taking walks outside.

He created his Christmas list, unafraid to put on it the one true thing he wanted - an iPhone 13 pro. he even delivered it as a presentation with his most persuasive words.

We created new sand sensory bins to sit out around the house.

We jammed together on the piano.

We drew silly pictures.

We had even more dance parties.

We sang silly tunes back and forth until we got the giggles.

We even played with a salad spinner! (serious blast from the past!)

By the end of the day, he noted “I really love spending time with you mom. I love you so much. I’ve had a really fun day.”

And he fell asleep early.