So here’s the thing about Christmas. For the past three years, I’ve hated it. I mean, loathed. I cannot express strongly enough how much Christmas has stressed me out. It was never like that growing up. Never. What changed? My boyfriend.
If you’ve red my earlier entries, you might be aware that my relationship of six and a half years came to an end. Yes, sad, moving on. Christmas with him, and more specifically his family, was awful. Talk about the meaningless gifts. It was thousands of dollars spent on crap no one really wants. They open their presents, and talk about what they’ll get when they exchange it. I didn’t have a lot of money in my early twenties, so I was always feeling imbalanced between what I could afford to get his parents, and what they got me. I mean they seriously spent $100 on a fancy pen one year. I use the bic pens of staples.
Everyone does Christmas their own way. I understand that. But what my family does is get together. That’s it, just get together. If we do gifts, we exchange easy little things we know we’d like. One year my mom asked us all to go out and each get her one big ass candle holder. She wanted five or six different ones to put along a table for an artistic display. My brother gets us gift cards. Always. He wraps them in very ‘boyish’ funny ways, usually using newspaper, and we always have fun laughing about it. My sister used to make her own cards, and they were always so beautiful. My mom does stockings. Each year we get pajamas and new wool socks, and a bag of candy from the English Store. Done. No muss, no fuss, we listen to the Charlie Brown Christmas CD, and eat the prepared snackie dinner (which is what we cal a buttload of appetizers masquerading as an actual meal.)
It’s nice. Since my dad passed away, Christmas has been a little hard, but when we spend Christmas Eve with my mom, she always makes it beautiful. Simple, and beautiful. No one goes into debt. No one is stressed. It’s just nice.
This year, because of my new single status, the strangest thing has started to happen. I’m fricken ridiculously excited about Christmas again!! I mean, like, bring on the Christmas Carols and I’m humming to everyone one of them. And it’s all because of that other family sort of not being part of it anymore.
Now before I bash the way some people celebrate the holidays, let me be clear. Their family was just fine doing what they did. The problem is that I was not brought up that way, and it always made me really uncomfortable. This doesn’t mean it’s bad, it just means it’s not how I want to celebrate every year. And I’m glad its gone.
Is there a moral to this story? I’m not so sure. I’m just glad Christmas is once again what I believe it should be.