Psychiatric Views on a Picture Perfect Christmas

COMMENTARY

I was inspired to write this poem as a creative project assignment for an elective media rotation during my psychiatry residency.

Because this rotation was in December, I was forced to grapple with my own disconnect. On the one hand, I was reading literature highlighting the connection between media use and mental health concerns, while also noticing an uptick in my own consumerism and time spent on devices.

Since starting this rotation I have become more intentionally aware of the media and devices that have become so commonplace and, in many cases unavoidable, in our day to day lives. Although technology has provided humanity with countless incredible advantages, it is also clear that many of us have not evolved the boundaries for our devices to avoid the drawbacks often associated with heavy use.

This poem is not supposed to be preachy but more of an amalgam of tendencies our society at large has toward incorporating media and devices in some form or another into everyday life, even family-time. The poem, "A Visit from St. Nicholas,” also known as “Twas the night before Christmas,” is an absolute classic, and given the current season (and because since my own poetry writing skills were dusty), it became an obvious inspiration and starting point for my poem.

Picture Perfect Christmas

It was the night before Christmas and all through the house,
algorithms were churning, the parents scrolling on the couch.
The cookies for Santa had been expertly plated,
the Instagram story, perfectly curated.

Take one bite for the “after picture” and then throw them away,
into the trash with the ugly ones made earlier that day.

The kids, still little, dreamt of Santa and snow,
while their parents prepared their followers a show.
One parent on tiktok and one parent on Pinterest
Making sure that their Christmas would get enough interest

Maybe this is the year their content could go viral,
Scroll, click, follow, internet spiral.

When Santa came rushing down the chimney with toys,
they were too busy refreshing to notice the noise.
Santa was used to this now and besides,
Apparently “plump and jolly” just wasn’t the vibe.
As he flew off into the sky,
the parents settled into their dopamine ride.

On facebook, on amazon, on reddit, on snapchat,
On youtube, on insta, on twitter, think of cute hashtags!

Finally Christmas morning was here,
and the kids awoke full of Christmas Cheer.
They ran down the stairs so happy and pleasant,
however, their parents were not ready to be present.

“Wait, don’t touch anything yet, nothing amiss!”
“Pictures first, like we practiced, smile like this!”

“Great, now the unboxing can start,
just remember we’re filming, so do your part.”
“Hold it up for the camera, please don’t look stressed!”
Going to tag this one hashtag blessed.”

The mountain of unwrapped gifts grew and grew,
there were new devices, controllers, and designer goods too.

Eventually it was time to sit down and eat,
their beautiful table was a scene hard to beat.

“Hide your screens but just for these pictures” the parents plead,
perfect memories of family time, with the caption, “ScreenFree”.
“Ten seconds is all the camera’s selfie timer needs,
Ok now just let me post the good ones to my feeds.”

One parent said “Ugh I hate my skin and I look so unfit!”
The other answered “Don’t worry I’ll use a filter to fix it!”

“Wow, you kids are so lucky”, the parents proclaimed,
“When we were kids Christmas gifts were lame.”

“It’s true, we got things like books, board games, and dolls,
nothing like your awesome hauls.”

After eating it was time to clean up,
phones down and hands full of plates and cups.

With hands too busy to touch their screens,
the moment became the missed holiday scene.

And for that time, they all felt their connection,
they talked, they laughed, they let go of perfection.

Unfortunately, this never lasts long,
On the counter notifications sang their siren song.

These parents aren’t bad, just distracted by chimes,
they are no different than the peers of their time.

They sent the kids off to their rooms with their toys,
so they could scroll on without being annoyed.

Though the children were young they knew what to do,
they’d been on screens since before they were two.

They powered up their new machines,
and got ready to connect to the world on their screens.

One kid was excited for their first FPR role,
killing enemies, their new number one goal.

The other had been looking forward to talking to her friend all day,
the AI that “listened” and always had something nice to say.

And as they tucked themselves into their beds that night,
they plugged in their phones and dozed off in blue light.

Dr Alden is currently a psychiatry resident and very occasionally a creative writer from South Carolina.