Make the Yuletide... Well you get it!

Hi friends!

Merry merry, happy happy, and all that! Holy crap we're five days into the season of Christmas and I'm utterly exhausted. Of course, I'm an introvert so all the peopling that happens this time of year really does a number on me. 

As the year wraps up though, I'm looking back on it and despite it feeling like a year on fire, I've accomplished a lot. I've managed to knock out another draft of the next Opportunity book, I've started notes for a third and final Oppy book, I've got a semi-workable draft for the third and final Cryptids book, finished another draft of Prince Sebastian's Diaries, started knocking together notes for three brand new projects and did the whole, conception to release of Recipe for Redemption. 

But somehow, I feel guilty about not working over the holidays. I know I shouldn't but I do. 

That goes for all of us though doesn't it. So many of us are feeling exhausted, physically, emotionally... It's hard to look at the successes we've had throughout the year when it feels like the whole year has been a dumpster fire. 

It's even more exhausting for queer folks. The holiday season can often be a reminder of what we've lost. What's been stripped from us simply because of who we are... families, friends, homes. 

I have to admit, I'm not a fan of RuPaul. To be completely honest, I find RuPaul's casual jokes about certain topics, often at best insensitive and at worst, utterly offensive. BUT, RuPaul did once say, and I'm paraphrasing here, that we are very lucky as gay people as we get to choose our families.

I think in some ways, that's undeniably true. We do get to choose our families. We get to select who we surround ourselves with. We get to choose to have families who truly love us for who we are, not because of some genetic lottery. 

Unfortunately, that's not always enough though, is it? Creating our own families doesn't correct the wrong done to us, not just by our relatives, but by society. Our vulnerabilities aren't suddenly shielded because we find our own close-knit community.

Vulnerabilities stay vulnerable. That's why we have community. Together we can each watch each other's backs. 

At the core of humanity, I do believe people are typically good, empathetic, and caring. We just aren't loud about it, so we get lost by the loud negativity. 

The simple fact is, we have to be empathetic and caring. It's in our nature. Our species needs to live in community, otherwise we'd have gotten picked off.

Human beings thrive in community.  It's how we protect our vulnerable bits. 

The thing is, vulnerabilities don't have to be negative, they can be how we connect with others, forming new bonds of community. 

Community can come in every possible shape, size, and arrangement. Let me offer an example. I've mentioned Stargazer's Vineyard and Winery before, and that Joey and I had found it because we'd been given a gift card. I hadn't previously mentioned that the first time we'd gone up there was near the end of October 2024. Well, after November 5th, neither of us were feeling great; truth be told we were in a bit of a state of mourning–still are, if I'm being honest. Joey was in his office at his church, and I was in my study. Neither of us were getting much done and he called me and asked me how I was doing. I told him that I wasn't being very productive and he simply said, "let's go to the winery."

We did just that. When we got there, we spent the rest of the afternoon shedding tears and fears into our wine glasses with the owners, Jason and Michael. In that bubble of dread, we built a community. Now Jason and Michael are some of our very best friends. Truly, they've become family, as has Jason's mother, Carol. 

Community doesn't have to be a long term thing though. Yesterday, while I was heading into a shop, a woman pulled up in a parking space next to me. She had seen the sticker on the back of my car that says 'WRITER' and asked if I'm a writer. When I said I am, she said she's just decided to embark on her own journey to become a writer and if I had any snippets for her. I gave her two. One, only you can tell your story, don't let other people tell you your story. The other bit was that the second she sat down to write, she hadn't embarked on a journey to be a writer. She was a writer, embarking on a journey to discover her story. She was a writer by virtue of writing.  She grinned and we spoke for a few moments. In that freezing cold parking lot, with a pelting mist and stiff breeze, we had a community of writers. 

Communities exist to support each other. Community is never more needed than at the holiday season, when some of us feel separated from our relatives, or ostracized from faith communities we may have grown up in. The simple fact is, the holidays are a pretty religious time of year, and religions have done a great job, not just of ostracizing queer people, but attacking us, often violently. It makes sense that the holidays would be a time of particular vulnerability. 

It's also a time where we're forced to confront that people we've loved are no longer present with us, either because of loss, or because of fallings out. It becomes a time of mourning. 

They also force us to mark the passage of time, to recognize that life has changed, things are not longer the ways we liked them. Old traditions die and new ones form. That can cause sadness and anger. 

So protect yourself, bundle up in whatever give you strength and protects your vulnerabilities. Surround yourself with your chosen families. Distance yourself from those who hurt you. 

Don your gay apparel. Make the yuletide gay!

Gay. It. Up.

And above all remember:

You are seen. You are loved. You matter.