I don't like Christmas. There, I said it. Bring on the hordes of people telling me how much of a elf-hating holly-crushing kill-joy I am. Most of the time I try to take my feelings for Christmas and bottle them up or at least pour them sneakily into some eggnog so I can consume them while still appearing Jolly.
The thing is, I have a perfectly valid reason for hating Christmas time. And that is that I actually love 99% of this stupid season. I like the lights and the gift giving and the seasonal food. I could leave the claymation specials but I enjoy a cheesy made for TV movie about discovering the true meaning of the Holidays just as much as the next girl.
The issue, I've found, lies in my family. Like clockwork, every year since I was small, there has been a major knock down drag out fight within a week of Christmas. Someone always cries. Someone always feels belittled and unloved. It's unavoidable for no real reason other than the closeness and planning brings out the ugliest part of all of us. This year will be no different. So while I am surrounded by messages of peace and giving that I want to believe in, I am forced to see the worst sides of the people I care the most about. And that'll kill the spirit pretty fast. Every time.
So in a week and a half (God save me) I will get on a plane. I will spend a week getting yelled at and watching people I love be intentionally nasty to other people I love, all while the same ten songs play relentlessly in the background. I will hate it every bit as much this year as I have all the years before and so the cycle will continue. So forgive me for not joining in with the caroling or the revelry. This season of peace and love has never meant anything other than a broken heart where I am concerned. Fala-fucking-la lalalala
The thing is, I have a perfectly valid reason for hating Christmas time. And that is that I actually love 99% of this stupid season. I like the lights and the gift giving and the seasonal food. I could leave the claymation specials but I enjoy a cheesy made for TV movie about discovering the true meaning of the Holidays just as much as the next girl.
The issue, I've found, lies in my family. Like clockwork, every year since I was small, there has been a major knock down drag out fight within a week of Christmas. Someone always cries. Someone always feels belittled and unloved. It's unavoidable for no real reason other than the closeness and planning brings out the ugliest part of all of us. This year will be no different. So while I am surrounded by messages of peace and giving that I want to believe in, I am forced to see the worst sides of the people I care the most about. And that'll kill the spirit pretty fast. Every time.
So in a week and a half (God save me) I will get on a plane. I will spend a week getting yelled at and watching people I love be intentionally nasty to other people I love, all while the same ten songs play relentlessly in the background. I will hate it every bit as much this year as I have all the years before and so the cycle will continue. So forgive me for not joining in with the caroling or the revelry. This season of peace and love has never meant anything other than a broken heart where I am concerned. Fala-fucking-la lalalala
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