Interrupted

My Life Thus Far
2008-12-16 06:08:12 (UTC)

How I Really Feel About Christmas

I like to think of myself as a happy person. I'm peaceful
and for the most part light-hearted. Friendly. Giving.
Loving. All that crap. Really, I am. I'm not at all dark
or sinister. I don't worship the devil or sacrifice lambs.
I'm not a Pagan or a Wiccan (no offence to you if you
are). I've never dyed my hair black, worn white make-up or
owned a trench coat (once again, if you did, do or would,
more power to you, it's just not for me), but I'm
decidedly against Christmas. I'm not a fan. I think most
everyone in my life knows that, but I'm at a total loss as
to why I'm so adamantly against the holiday. Resentment is
sometimes mistaken for unhappiness, but in this case I'm
not unhappy. I'm just anti-Christmas.

I think blaming your parents for things you don't like
about yourself or your life is kind of a cope out. Once
you're an adult you are responsible for your own happiness
and whatever you endured growing up is in the past. You
can't change it and you shouldn't dwell on it. It isn't
healthy. That being said, I blame my mother for my
distaste for Christmas. If it wasn't her exceedingly
overbearing "calling" to convert sinners (her main sinner
being me) to God, which became even more paramount during
the holiday season, it was her love of all things Yule.
You couldn't take a piss without an animatronic Santa
handing you a wad of toilet paper. Getting the house ready
for Christmas took days and the entire family was enlisted
(whether you wanted to or not). Shopping was yet another
nightmare. My mom was that woman pushing you out of the
way for the last Elmo doll or violently cutting you off in
the parking lot for that last spot near the door. When I
was a little kid I thought all of it was magical, but as I
reached my teens and had to do most of the work of
decorating it quickly lost it's magic and instead I
started hating it.

I don't think it's fair to my children that I NOT
celebrate Christmas simply because I don't like it. I try
to get in the spirit. I decorate the house (a little). I
think some decorations are really pretty and have even
bought a few. We always have a lovely tree with presents
wrapped in pretty paper underneath. I say "Merry
Christmas" and "Happy Holidays" if someone says it to me
first. I don't hate Christmas for Christmas' sake (not
anymore). I'm just still really burned out, and it makes
me feel like a Grinch. I'm dreading taking the kids to see
Santa, but I know I'll feel like a real heel if I don't.
Who am I to deny my children those memories? They may grow
up to be devout Christians or Christmas freaks and I don't
want them to resent me for not allowing them to have warm
fuzzy Christmas memories. How come no one ever said being
a parent would mean putting so much of myself and my
beliefs on the back burner for the sake of my children's
possible future beliefs?

I'm always grappling with what to do. When they're grown
and gone, celebrating with their own families, Snookums
and I have decided not to celebrate Christmas anymore.
We'll go on cruises instead. I can't say for sure if I'll
stick with that plan, but it sounds pretty good right
about now. BAH HUMBUG!




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