A Not-So-Shiny Christmas

Before I started writing this, I sat here staring at a blank screen for at least fifteen minutes. “It’s almost Christmas,” I thought. “I need to write something for Christmas.”

I flipped through my mental Rolodex of “Best Christmas Memories”, which, of course, all came from my childhood (isn’t that true for everyone?). Then I tried to narrow it down to one or two of the best memories, but there were just too many to choose from.

Right as I felt anxiety begin to creep in, a question popped into my mind:  Why am I letting the date on a calendar make me feel like I have to do something? That’s when I realized I’d inadvertently found the perfect topic to write about:  allowing ourselves to enjoy Christmas, instead of trying to live up to expectations, especially the ones we unnecessarily place on ourselves.

I once knew someone who spent an enormous amount of time and energy making sure the gifts she bought her children were equal and fair. For example, if she bought one kid a sweater, she made sure to buy one for the other, even if the other didn’t want or like sweaters. Or she’d buy something that cost the same amount, whether it was something the kid wanted or not. I don’t know about you, but when I hear words like “equality and fairness”, my mind automatically goes to things like pay scales in the workplace, labor laws, even the Constitution. So, I can only imagine how ‘unmerry’ this way of thinking made Christmas shopping feel for her. I understand the idea that you don’t want to give one kid only a pair of socks when you’ve bought a video game console for the other, but the idea of feeling like you have to make sure you spend dollar-for-dollar on each is just exhausting.

Then there are Christmas gatherings. They shouldn’t be stressful, but often they are — not just for those planning and hosting them, but also for guests. Hosts worry about things like: Will there be enough food? And how much gluten-free stuff should we serve, seeing as how so-and-so is allergic to gluten? Should we invite Cousin Eddie to stay in the house so that when his RV shitter gets full, he doesn’t empty it into the sewer like he did last year? Guests worry about things like: Do we bring a gift for everyone, just the little ones, or no gifts at all? Where should we park? If I can’t afford a gift for the host, should I just wrap up my cat? What should we wear? How long should we stay?

We worry so much about getting everything perfect that we lose sight of why we’re there in the first place. It’s called a gathering because the purpose is to gather with the people you love and care about. If it were about getting everything right, it would probably be called a performance.

If you really think about it, for many of us, Christmas shouldn’t be what it has become. Like any other day of the year, there’s only one expectation worth placing on yourself — and it isn’t to perform or give presents; it’s to show up and be present.

So, this may not be the shiny Christmas post I initially wanted to write. It isn’t festive, it isn’t nostalgic, and it isn’t long. What it is, though, is me giving myself permission to let something simple be enough—even if that means borrowing a reference or two from Christmas Vacation and calling it a day—which leaves plenty of time to enjoy the rest of this Christmas-y afternoon by showing up for the people I love, without trying to light up the whole neighborhood.