The Christmas season can be overwhelming. We start celebrating it in November. Even though we, as Americans know there’s ANOTHER holiday before Christmas. A fairly important holiday, and it’s celebration actually precedes America’s existence and therefore our traditional celebration of Christmas.

Then you get into the actual meaning of the holiday. It’s a baby shower that totally went overboard. Not my joke, but it’s true. Baby Jesus hung out in the manger with his mom and surrogate dad for a few years. That had to have been awkward for the innkeeper who gave them the space in the first place.

Innkeeper: Oh…you guys are still here? Well you know, it’s been a couple months, maybe you can throw me a few gold pieces?

A year later…

Innkeeper: Ok, seriously, you need to move the frankincense and myrrh. It’s makes the mules jumpy and I don’t care if you guys have squatters rights at this point, I need some help with the sheep.

So I’m sure the first few Christmases were awkward. What birthday isn’t?

But lately (or maybe not lately, I’m just grown up and can see it), the holiday itself has become a monster. A controlling, self-righteous monster. If you look at it from the wrong angle, it will become the controlling relationship of holidays:

Where are you going?

Well, I was planning on going home, but I should probably go to the mall and shop for Christmas presents.

Why didn’t you come see me?

I’m busy, I know. I should try to make time to visit you at mass, but with work and the holidays, I’m usually so exhausted by the end of the week, I can’t make time to go to Church.

Who were you with?

I can’t stand to be around people that invite me to parties, but I have to go. It’s a personal liability, not a gift. My boss/crush/aunt/mailman/ex/priest will be there. I have such a horrible time. I would have rather been with you, I promise.

I read what you wrote about me. If you hate me so much, why don’t you leave?

I can’t. I love what you stand for too much. I can’t ignore it. You were so amazing at the beginning but then I realized that you were so much bigger than just me and you.

Why do you put them over me?

I only have so much money. I want to give to charity, but I also have to show my loved ones that I care for them, too.

You don’t love me.

Yes I do! You are beautiful and amazing and bring so much to the world. It’s just that I get stressed sometimes when you’re around. I can’t handle it and break down.

 

Yet, if you are able to evacuate the cynicism and fill the void with realism, the Christmas season can be so fucking (sorry baby Jesus) awesome. I’m not talking about unrelenting optimism that shows up in Hallmark commercials and Santa-adorned pet pictures. That’s extremely unrealistic, and the pressure to maintain such a positive attitude can be exhausting. And exhaustion leads to stress, overeating, alcohol abuse, irrational decisions, and general malaise. Which actually sounds like the benchmarks of any successful holiday season. I’m talking about finding your happy medium.

So where is the medium on this two-way traffic jam of the season? From one direction you have the constant external barrage of “Why aren’t you enjoying yourself?” “Why don’t you like Christmas?” “What makes your such a Scrooge?” “Just BE happy.” And from the other direction, you have the internal conflict of “I should buy this.” “I have to travel here.” “I must make others happy.” “I have to explain myself without sounding misanthropic.”

Stop looking for a middle ground, just get off the road. Remove yourself from the obligations and the excuses, and blaze your own damn path for being content. Celebrate the holiday. Or don’t. Put up a front. Or don’t. Use your electrical engineering degree for an outdoor light display you can see from space. Or don’t. The point is, you still have control of the situation, and the biggest expectations usually come from within.

Now, will anyone actually listen to my obviously bias and completely logical advice? Hellllz no. This is America, brought to you by Walmart and guaranteed by Amazon Prime. Everyone wants you to have the “perfect Christmas,” but what they don’t realize is that their idea of the “perfect Christmas” is a hodgepodge of nostalgia, Madison Avenue admen pitches, and whitewashed images of traditions. The problem (and also magic) of this season, is that Christmas is an EXTREMELY personal holiday. If you explained what Christmas means to you, but leave out the holiday buzzwords part, you might sound slightly necrotic or obsessive compulsive….or even a little snobbish:

We need to eat at 8pm, but only with the good china. The gourds from the ground will need to be prepared a certain way. Only pastries from a certain bakery will be accepted. Next we will travel to imbibe alcohol with acquaintances, many of whom we do not know. We will then go to sleep, but not before music is played for a predetermined amount of time. The following morning, we must wake up at daybreak, then worship at the altar of a child who will be sacrificed in the spring of next year. Then we will remove the outside packaging of unknown objects, in an orderly and easily documented manner. After, we must be grateful for the unknown objects and offer unknown objects in return.

If this was your recap of a random Tuesday in June, you would sound insane. Or extremely rich, which usually comes with a side of insanity anyways. But this probably sounds like a typical Christmas for some. Or what some wish their typical Christmas to be. Or it may be an absolute nightmare for others. Once you step back and realize that your pursuit of happiness will never match someone else’s, you may actually free yourself and influence others to do the same. (That was a very patriotic sentence).

For me, my pursuit of happiness during the holiday (and really any time of year) is surrounding myself with people whom I love. But it’s beyond this, because I actually grew up around people who are OBsessed with love. I’m not talking about chick-flick, Shakespeare, diamond ring jewelry story love. I’m talking about being with people who will always do 3 things for me: there is always someone who will cook for me, there is always someone who will listen to me, and there is always someone who will hug me. Once I have this trifecta of goodness, everything else falls in to place. Even if I need an insane, reactionary season to realize it.