I don’t hate Christmas. As a child, I enjoyed the holiday season, but each passing year saw a little more of that childish joy drop away, like dead pine needles. By the time I reached adulthood, I could no longer see the forest for the plastic trees. Everything had become so artificial: the greenery, the decorations, the emotions. The entirety of December had become slow asphyxiation strangled in strings of colored lights—a month of constricting and conflicting social pressures to buy, give, consume, share, and be glad for what we have while simultaneously going into debt to buy more. And of course I had to be happy about it; no one likes a grinch!
That was the worst part, smiling through the suffering. Never mind the fact that every kitschy display, every television special with the same insipid message, and every interminable refrain of the same dozen songs being played in every nylon-snow-filled department store was another scrape of the rasp against an exposed nerve. So what if every moment of it was agony? As long as everyone else was happy, nakhes! Just ignore your feelings and join in the holiday spirit, they’d tell me. I always had to bite my tongue, lest I give them a piece of my mind, but then I realized something: they were right.
The rasp only gnaws at what resists it. All I had to do to like Christmas was stop fighting it. It was always a losing battle, so let the battle be over. Just give in. Let go of your personal hang-ups to strike the harp and join the chorus with the rest of the blank, smiling faces. Surrender yourself to the holiday spirit, and you too can feel just like I do now. I love Christmas!
12/17/2024
11:25:18 AM