Bad Christmas Movies, Chronic Pains, and Yule Logs
An honest message for all those who aren't feeling very merry or bright right now
“Another Year Gone.”
This merry time of year often feels decidedly less-than-merry for many of us. In the face of everyone else’s joyous celebrations, a lack of joy can feel like a cruel, chastising joke. This is my December.
Again, another harsh year, and this one was momentously brutal for me, personally. Again, I flip on my TV and turn on nostalgic holiday favorites, which includes Beauty and the Beast: The Enchanted Christmas.
NOW! Before I hear a bloody person make a single fricking comment about this movie and how that reflects poorly on my artistic appraisals, let me make one thing perfectly, crystal clear: All of you made the live-action version of the Grinch from 25 years ago a universal classic. You have your trash, I have mine. (At least this one has Tim Curry voicing the villain).
Like many Christmas movies, this unnecessary Disney cash-grab of a direct-to-video spin-off flick, filled with choppy writing and B-grade animation, is not good. I dug the piece as a kid and now consider the work to be poor. Yet I still watch and—mostly for nostalgia—enjoy the movie anyway. We all have our guilty pleasures and garbage we love, and that is a-okay! (As I often say of comic creator Todd McFarlane’s most famous character: “Yes, Spawn is trash, but Spawn is my trash!”).
However, within this picture everyone can agree is professionally awful, there is a little moment that in recent Christmas seasons I cannot help but reflect on more and more deeply as I get older and older, and the world—and my life—get darker and darker.
No, I am not writing hopefully today, nor am I sharing encouragement you can find from any preachy Instagram account. I am just writing honestly about a question I am forced to confront every year, so you can feel less alone if you find yourself also facing this question.
“The Days Have Gone Down in the West.”
For the full context, if you have not seen Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, stop reading and watch the film anyway you can right now. Yes, RIGHT NOW! For this post’s necessary context: The Enchanted Christmas is set during the middle of Belle’s time in the castle of the villainous, albeit complicated, Beast. The two are changing, slowly becoming friends, but their relationship is still rocky. Belle is honor bound to remain the troubled Beast’s prisoner (again, go watch that masterpiece if you haven’t already!) and now a snowy winter has arrived. She tells the enchanted anamorphic objects of the castle (formerly human beings cursed by the same spell that turned their Prince into the Beast) that today is Christmas Eve, which they have not celebrated since before their transfiguration. The reason: the Beast hates Christmas and has banned the holiday.
Belle, being the coolest gal in fairytale France, decides to hell with the Beast’s decree! With the help of her new friends, she will host a Christmas party for everyone in the castle. The plans include finding a Yule Log, which, as a child, I had never heard of before this movie. She goes to the boiler room looking for the perfect piece of wood for the occasion. Thanks to Tim Curry’s Forte, an anamorphic giant organ and the best part of this VHS tape, the Beast finds out about Belle’s plans and heads down to the boiler room.
He takes the Yule Log from Belle, examining the wood, and she explains its significance.
“It’s a wonderful tradition. One log is chosen and then everyone in the house touches it and makes a Christmas wish.”
In other words, the Yule Log is a symbol of hope for the future. An optimistic tradition that looks to a year ahead filled with opportunity and goodness, regardless of what has fallen upon the world in the past 12 months.
The Beast, bound by his regret and despair over being a perceivably unlovable creature, seethes at the sight of the log. Unthinking, he lets the worst of himself out.
“Wishes are stupid.”
Then, he delivers the bombshell question, roaring and gesturing to the castle that is Belle’s permanent jail:
“You made a Christmas wish last year. Is THIS WHAT YOU WISHED FOR?!”
Think about that exchange for a moment.
“It’s Going to be Cold, It’s Going to be Gray, and It’s Going to Last You the Rest of Your Life.”
I have had many years full of misfortune, but (and I never use Christ’s name in vain, only as a cry out for help in my most heartbreaking times), Jesus Christ, 2025 has been monstrous—for me personally, not even considering the obvious orgy of evil we found in the news all year that affected us all. Now, I am not throwing a pity party, venting, or seeking attention in illustrating some of what I have weathered. I only want you to know that if you find yourself experiencing similar sorrows after a tumultuous year, you are not alone.
The year was kickstarted off horribly with a crappy New Year’s Eve. I continued to work a hard job that did not pay me what I needed to survive. I learned a new hellish layer of truth to a black and burdensome family secret I had been forced to know in 2024 and was still coming to terms with, which made the whole trauma infinitely worse, shattering my sense of identity. I lost much of the medical support I needed and ended up also losing thousands of dollars to a crooked, popular insurance company.
My yearly visit to my local, beloved fan convention was not uplifting, but instead plagued by my untreated mental health conditions. Intrusive thoughts of the most heinous kind and a brief ear infection wracked me.
The unbearably blazing summer that came next was, as a whole, cursed by a horrifying melancholy, hopelessness, and increasing sense of doom. Like I needed to escape my living status or something unspeakable would happen to me.
June culminated in a surprise trip to Florida with my family (one I gave up ever having hope to pay for) to the brand-new Epic Universe theme park, where a bitchin’ new ride about the Universal Classic Monsters, characters my brother and I share a great love for, awaited me. I was there verbally told I was too fat to ride the attraction; I hope you never have to endure that kind of public embarrassment. In the last days of my vacation, I became very sick with a nasty, long-lasting cold.
When I returned home still ill, I learned I would either have to spend most of my life savings or have my university student debt increase beyond my control. A no-win scenario. So, I lost almost every dollar to my name, trapping me further in a life I needed to escape.
I realized I needed to act upon the romantic feelings I had for someone I cared about for many years, only to learn my love was unrequited. Another heartbreak that reminded me how lonely I would always feel. I had a horrendous night of sleep that made me unable to feel calm for weeks and weeks. A string of restless nights led me to fear sleep itself.
Eventually, there came a day when I simply lost my mind. Despite having a fair day, I could not stop shaking; panicking; feeling like I was trapped in a nightmare I could not wake up from, ever, no matter what I did or where I went. Nothing was real, and no one would save me. If not for an emergency call to professionals, I would have gone to a hospital. A few days later, I woke up so panicked that I truly thought I was about to have a heart attack and rushed to the nearest urgent care. There, I found out I was critically obese, had a nearly catastrophic blood pressure rate, and was bound for more severe medical problems.
A brief trip to the home of a dear friend we will call “P,” whom I have known for a whopping 16 years, helped momentarily ease me. But my everyday reality had become continuous mental health agonies: feeling like my world was not real; unable to sit still; panicked by sleep; constant chest pains; worsening intrusive thoughts. My mind had crumbled so much I no longer saw myself with a future.
Most recently, I lost my cat, a stray who adopted me around the time I lost my precious kitty I had raised since she was born. He once curled tighter in my arms to comfort me after I woke up from a nightmare. He was a good boy. The sleepless nights, panic attacks, and disconnection from reality returned in force again.
In the immediate present, while I have been dealing with the loss of my irreplaceable feline buddy, I was told the absolute worst misfortune of this year: The person most important to me has been struck with a fatal illness and they must now fight for their life. While the medical reports suggest we are in the best-case scenario and, after a very shitty upcoming few months, this darkness will pass and they will not die . . . well, I think you can imagine how I felt hearing the news.
I shared with “P”: truthfully, I no longer wanted to live. I no longer wanted to be the butt of life’s jokes. I did not want to live the exact same year of despair again come 2026. I did not want to be alive anymore, and I meant it.
“How Can We Endure It?”
Back to Beauty and the Beast: The Enchanted Christmas.
After Beast’s declaration of the straight fact that, despite what Belle wished for last Christmas, her life has gotten worse, Belle calmly, bravely, and wisely responds that, no, being a prisoner to save her father is not what she hoped for.
“But I’ll keep wishing.”
The Beast further chastises her determination to think next year will be any better. Though he is acting horribly, he is not being intentionally cruel but letting his own panic and hopelessness run wild out of his damaged heart in a harmful way. He accuses Belle of not knowing the agony of his life.
“You have no idea what it’s like to lose everything, to be trapped in your own castle, to be a . . . a . . .”
“Prisoner?”
Belle finishes for him. The Beast realizes he has done goofed, regretting his hurtful statement. Belle has the last word:
“The only one holding us prisoner here is you. Well, I’m not giving up!”
Long ago, this exchange did not mean much to me. In recent years, which seem full of disappointments, chronic sufferings, and hope dwindling so much I honestly do not see any future for me beyond being, well, a prisoner of my life until I finish living the wrong life and leave this world one way or another, this scene—no matter what I or anyone else thinks of the movie—hits hard.
If this year is worse than before, just like the years before, and nothing is likely to change for the better, why do I keep going?
This year, I am also wondering about a question concerning Belle’s response: Do I really have her faith in the future? Do I even want to?
“Certain As the Sun.”
My honest answer: I don’t know.
I am tired of my faith and hope being denied. I am tired of living the life I live defined by rejection, exile, isolation, and chronic ailments. I am stuck in a cycle I cannot escape. I dread 2026 being 2025 remixed. This year, which was too much like last year, etc.
But I will say: I do not think Belle is wrong for having faith that things will turn around. Period. Perhaps that simple statement holds the greatest power for hope.
In fact, Belle’s optimism is ultimately proven right. For, in time, she and the Beast will become good friends, then true lovers, and in their love they will find healing and freedom they never dared hope for.
As for the Beast’s question . . . I have thoughts.
When I visited with “P” a few months ago, he gave me advice. He said I should put aside focusing on my creative projects, which I thought would save me, and focus on healing my life right now. Because, otherwise, not only may I never finish those creative dreams of mine, but I will also continuously hurt being trapped in my cycles.
I listened to him. I found a better job. I have dedicated myself to dieting and the gym and have seen results.
This new job is still riddled with problems. I still get up, drive, and walk into the school feeling miserable; unwanted; going nowhere; hopeless. My kitty I thought would heal me from losing my other fur baby died, and now my dearest is, as of this writing, technically, dying.
I called “P” in my job’s parking lot after work one day. For two hours we talked, and I told him I was thinking of maybe driving this car off the campus and killing myself. Or maybe driving away, out of Georgia, away from everyone I know, and going back home, out west, where I belong, and disappearing. I did not want to endure any more pain with my dearest’s fatal illness. I was tired of being told by everyone I had to keep on living and to keep on going and be hopeful for the future and . . . and . . .
Once again, “P” gave me pragmatic advice. He told me every time we talked and I shared my sorrows, there were recurring, chronic patterns. He said I no longer looked at life as anything but a horrifying nightmare, and I needed to stop, to find the goodness around me, because the way I was viewing life now, I was “dying.” Change would come slowly, very slowly, but I still have a chance, there is still time, and I am on the right path because I have made the effort to change my life for the better already. I sat with his words for a moment and knew he was right again.
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So, the next day, as I was walking into the school feeling trapped, miserable, and afraid, I stopped myself in my negativity. I am making double what my last job gave me, and this work is better, too. The few friends I have helped talk me out of my despair and have given me nothing but good advice and support to help me through these latest trials, like good friends do. With this mindset shift, I began to sleep again, even if I still have not-so-great sleep. My chest pains started to lessen. When they do come, I accept them, and let them go by believing in the good things I have even despite the pain. The intrusive thoughts finally began to fade away, and I learned again who I was.
One morning at work, just last week, as I prepared to teach my students for the day, I was feeling anxious, panicked, and the cycle of despair returned . . . and I just vehemently did not want to panic. I did not want to be scared anymore. I was tired, done, with being afraid. I wanted to see the good I have so my spirit would stop dying. That moment is when I noticed my hope was still alive. Then, I had a nice day.
This year is not what I wished for last year. But “P” and my precious few friends are right. I do not know what will happen in 2026. I will not prophecy any certain catastrophes or joy for next year when this Christmas ends. But I do know for certain it is okay, it is good, to wish for a better year; to hope for the future; and to keep on doing so, year after year.
As another dear friend of mine recently told me: Please, do not give up. Enjoy this holiday season as you see fit, and do not give up. Celebrate New Year’s Eve in peace and do not give up. I implore you to keep on wishing, dreaming, and hoping, and I will do so with you.
Do not let go of the truth that the future is uncertain and there is still time, and the time we have now is worth keeping.
Happy holidays to you all. No matter what despair you may be holding, go ahead and burn your own kind of Yule Logs.
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💬 Comment below:
Are you going into 2026 feeling hopeful for the future, or struggling to see beyond the darkness of 2025?
What stories bring you peace or joy during this holiday season?
Sincere Merry Christmas and Happy Holiday season wishes from the story team at One Brilliant Arc (OBA). We are so grateful for all of you who stuck with us through 2025. We are choosing to look ahead with hope that 2026 holds magic for all of our stories!
💌Love,
Wow this was a powerful read. I appreciate you sharing everything so transparently. These things are rarely linear. Just speaking from experience, one moment I might feel like I'm in heaven and the next like I'm in hell. Seemingly trivial things can send me spiraling and having an existential crisis lol. And at the same time I recognize that I can stop the loop at any moment but that doesn't mean I don't still forget. And I like how the most unexpected things (like a bad made-for-tv Christmas movie) can sometimes deliver exactly the message we need to hear. Btw your descriptions of the movie were hilarious!
I could see so many versions of what I have come close to feeling in many Christmases in the past. Thank you for sharing this piece. Here’s hoping for a brighter 2026!