Turns out... I was the Christmas Drama!
Last Saturday morning, full of the joys of the festive season, Matthias and I headed to Mole Valley to buy the Christmas tree.
This year, I was determined to get going with Christmas early. I’d even bought half my presents in the Black Friday sale, which, for me, is unheard of.
I’m normally a lastminute.com girl, rushing around on Christmas Eve or paying the ADHD tax for next-day delivery.
➡️ Being ADHD means I leave everything to the wire (apart from packing).
➡️ Being autistic means last-minute chaos causes certain nervous system drama.
I could dysregulate myself in an empty room.
Tree Trauma Incoming
So, Saturday morning, we went on a mission to the garden centre to choose a majestic, space-defying fir.
Picture it if you will... There are three bays, 5–6ft, 7–8ft, and 8–9ft trees, all stacked and netted.
We opt for the 7–8ft middle ground.
We like a tree that takes up half the living room and makes you feel like you're in a forest 🤣
But we weren't allowed to open the trees ourselves... fine, makes sense.
The pine chaos I was about to unleash fully justified that rule.
A helpful young chap appeared, all enthusiasm and festive cheer.
Tree one – needles fell off.
Tree two – some kind of lopsided horror.
Tree three – not quite right.
Tree four – getting there.
He joked about how the record was twelve trees opened for one customer. I laughed politely while mentally promising not to be that person.
Spoiler... I was worse than that person.
By tree four, he looked just done with me.
I said, “Honestly, go help other customers. We’ll just be here chatting amongst ourselves,” as I quietly panicked about how none of them were right. (You know it when you see it, right?)
So I took matters into my own hands.
I’d started developing a sense for what a netted tree might look like based on its bulges (deeply niche skillset), and spotted a promising one wedged beneath a stack. Carefully, I shifted a few trees off to the side.
Except... they didn’t stay there.
In slow motion, the entire stack leaned to the left, then kept leaning, until it crashed through the dividing fence and collapsed into the next bay like some cursed fir-covered domino chain.
I just stood there. In the middle of it. Holding my tree.
I looked up to see a woman gasp and clasp her hand over her mouth.
The young lad’s face was a mix of mild trauma and the urge to scream into a pillow.
Matthias tried (and failed) not to laugh.
I muttered, “I’m so sorry,” mortified.
It was a National Lampoon’s meets Samantha Garstin, couldn’t-believe-it-unless-I-saw-it Christmas misadventure!
I would like to say this tree was the chosen one, alas... it was not.
Matthias glared at me, whispering, “The next has to be the one. We have to leave. Now.”
The young lad opened one more. I nodded. “Perfect,” I lied. It was fine, tree-ish.
We left Mole Valley in the wake of my destruction, tree in van, my nervous system in tatters.
Cue: The Meltdown
So when Matthias cheerfully said, “I’m just popping to B&Q,” something in me snapped.
My body screamed NOPE.
I got out of the van, turned on my heel and walked home.
Walking through the door, I burst into tears.
I mean, proper sobbed. Face-down on the sofa, ugly-crying into the cushions.
When Matthias got in, he stood over me like, “…what just happened?”
Spoiler: I Knew Exactly What Had Happened
Here’s what else had been quietly stacking up behind the scenes...
I was dog-sitting Thursday night and got maybe four hours of broken sleep, max, as he barked and whined until 2am (despite all our efforts to make him cosy and happy, he missed home).
And Friday was not a quiet day.
The reason I had this fluffy chaos in the first place was that his owners were getting married, and I’d been assigned the very important task of delivering him to the venue at 12:30pm, as the ring bearer!!
A task I happily accepted… not expecting to be sleep-deprived and now wracked with anxiety, and responsible for not ruining someone’s literal wedding.
But I got him there, on time. He was the star of the show, and everyone was happy.
Especially me.
That night, a friend came for dinner, and I powered through even though I was running on fumes (oh and then, said doggy decided to pee all over my carpet, so I found myself with the carpet cleaner out at 10pm).
By Saturday, I was deep in Christmas crowds, peopled out, noise overloaded, and hanging by a thread.
So the thought of B&Q was the final straw (I mean, even at the best of times, right?)
Aaaaaaand it was cycle day 7, which for me = pre-ovulatory overstimulation.
Pre-Spicy Me Wouldn’t Have Had a Clue
Now, pre-spicy, pre-cycle-aware me, I didn’t know that the pre-ovulatory phase (the bit after your period and before ovulation) could be just as emotionally wobbly as the premenstrual week.
I thought I was just dramatic. Or broken. Or secretly depressed and refusing to admit it. I used to cry...
“But my period’s finished!”
“Whhhhhhhhyyyy am I like this?”
Now I know the truth. I can stare down those wobbles with a withering look and a self-care toolkit that my plumbing partner would be envious of (Sorry, plumbing and heating engineer. I get in trouble if I say “plumber”).
Science Snack
After your period ends, estrogen starts to rise. Technically, it kicks off around Day 3, but while you’re still bleeding, the effects tend to be muffled.
Once your bleed ends, you might get that little upturn in energy or mood, a few days of “ooh, I’m back!”
For me, that lasts about four days. Then, that same rising estrogen pushes me right into buzzy, edgy, wobbly territory.
Suddenly, there’s more demand to be on. More stimulation. More noise. And less tolerance.
If you’re neurodivergent, this part of the cycle can feel genuinely intense.
The important bit to know is... it’s temporary.
You’re not losing it.
Recovery, Mince Pies, and the Actual Point
I feel so grateful for this knowledge and for being able to ask for what I need.
Matthias, although understandably baffled when he walked into the meltdown zone, knew what to do.
I didn’t need solutions, I just needed a hug.
Then (love him), he chunked the rest of the day down into baby steps and bought me a hot chocolate and a mince pie.
And This Is the Important Bit of This Christmas Tale...
Getting to know your energy patterns helps you actually understand what’s going on, and gives you the space to figure out what you need.
Before I had any awareness about my cyclical patterns or my neurodivergence, I would’ve just ended up in tears, completely overwhelmed, without the faintest clue why.
And Matthias would’ve been just as confused.
It would’ve been a total spiral.
But because I knew, I could say...
➡️ I’m overstimulated.
➡️ I need quiet, space, and the rest of the day to be simple and small.
That’s what we’re so often missing... the ability to recognise what’s happening as it’s happening, and respond with what actually helps.
And that is always, ALWAYS walking away from B&Q!