Every Christmas, ever since I first stumbled my way into this columnist role, I’ve taken the time off on Christmas to write a themed piece. I’ve written and spoken at length of the holidays from my perspective—as someone not of the faith, I still hold the holiday in a special place in my heart.
But I will always admit a personal mixed opinion regarding the holidays. I wax and wane on these times.
Holidays are a time for family (traditionally), so if that social construct has chinks in it, it taints the rest of the holiday situation.
For me personally, I’ve spoken and written at length of my views on the holidays, and my annual tradition of listening to the brilliant Christmas song “White Wine in the Sun” by brilliant musician Tim Minchin.
This time, I’d like to talk a brief bit about why the holidays put me in a state of malaise. It has, for a long while, and every holiday season, I do feel as if the heart flips a coin and puts me on a random side of the emotional spectrum depending on the result.
The magic of the holidays really depends on a few things, foremost among them being the innocence commonly associated with youth. As someone who, against my will, is slowly pushing into the 30s age bracket, that’s mostly gone, and I often joke about how much simpler life was pre-awareness.
The carolers too have become—in a spot of grinchiness—rather grating. Perhaps the sample size is simply too small, but in the past weeks, I swear I have heard only the same two songs coming from all those groups. It does not help that I despise one of those songs personally.
Here I am, being a grinch for the holidays, but I can’t quite help it. That is the mental state the holidays generally put me in to some extent, and usually my positive Christmas pieces are born of something else cancelling out that base of negativity.
In particular, the holidays remind me of certain undesirable facts—the worsening economy, for instance (I used to be able to afford burgers on the daily without ruining my budget), the increasing distance of my own blood, and the unmet needs and existential desires of mine.
But—it would be amiss of me if I were not to acknowledge the people who have tempered that malaise. It’s not gone, by any means, but what I find with the holidays is that they matter less to me than the people I spend them with.
Christmas, in Christian lore, is a victory for love, a celebration of the ultimate act of love. For myself personally, this is the crux of the holiday—familial love, platonic, romantic, love. Gifts are given and food is celebrated in the hopes of expressing love for those that matter to us.
You’re nobody until somebody loves you. And that somebody is me. I love you.
Now have a good holiday season.
