Yep, it’s that time of year again.
You know what I’m talking about.
It’s that magical time of year, when people lose their fucking minds in the name of Christmas cheer and holiday spirit.
I hate this holiday.
Why? Because things changed so much that it no longer became a fun holiday. Reason for this is simple. I grew up. Scary ain’t it?
When I was a kid, I used to get so excited about getting dressed up in my tights and shiny tip-tap shoes and the standard fancy holiday dress, then going to Grandmom’s house Christmas eve.
Grams’ place was the awesome place. She would go all out for decorating. Lights, tree, ornaments. Now Grams’ house was small, it was only her and Grampy there except on Christmas eve. Then it was Grams, Grampy, Uncle Mike, Mom, dad, Me and then later on there was my brother, Aunt Jen, and my two cousins. With everyone there, all the gifts, and all the food, plus furniture it was cramped. But we loved doing this every year.
The year I was considered no longer a kid, was kind of a shock. The living room was usually packed with the kids’ gifts. Four or five of us kids at times. When I turned 18, my gift pile got smaller, and my stuff was moved to the adult stuff. Now I loved all of my gifts that I got and was thankful them but I couldn’t help feeling like the fun of Christmas was over.
No longer was I asked for a Christmas list, I was an adult.
There was also the year my family started to fall apart. That was a painful. Thankfully there was enough of a facade of a happy family to make it through one last Christmas together. Opened up presents in the morning, Dad got to smile to see his family happy because they had things they wanted. But… when January rolled around, and the power was shut off, we knew why.
It wasn’t until recently that I explained to both my parents that I knew how much they did for us, and how much the sacrificed to make sure we had everything we wanted for Christmas. Many people see me ditzy and unobservant, but that’s just a mask. I knew what issues my parents were having, but it didn’t matter to me at the time. I was a kid, and it was Christmas. Mind you this was all after I stopped believing Santa.
Now I have a kid of my own and I would do anything to see him smile. Including watching my accounts go negative for the millionth time, paying the NSF fees, letting my rent and other bills lapse just so I can make sure that he has a great Christmas.
In doing this it’s made me realize I understand what it means to give up everything for someone just to make them smile. I understand why my dad never gave us a Christmas list. All I want for Christmas is to see my family smile.
However, it doesn’t make me like the holiday anymore. I’m just better at hiding it. Every year I drag out my decorations, tree, and make 3d paper snowflakes. And every year I smiles and pretend to be cheerful so my son doesn’t worry. But I know in my heart one year he’s going to know I’m faking it. I just hope by then he’ll be old enough to understand.
A big reason I dislike Christmas is the fact it cost so much money. Gifts. Now I don’t have a lot of money, I never have. So when my family sends money for their gifts, I take one and make it the to so and so; from some family member. Everything comes from Santa. Mom told me this is the way it should be, and it probably is. But really it’s more like easing my conscious for being so poor I can hardly afford gifts. Santa is a good scapegoat.
I do hope that one year I do get my Christmas spirit back, but for now, I’ll just keep wearing the mask.
Keep it real and rockin’