I'm not really a Grinch when it comes to Christmas. To be honest, I appreciate the whole idea of the season. Like, I love the idea of stockings, decorating trees, pumpkin pie, and letting people know you love them. Unfortunately, the idea of the season isn't what it turns out to be. Well, not for me.
I've never had a good Christmas, at least not one I can remember.
People think this is sad, but I'm indifferent to it. I mean, it's the way things have always been. A change of pace would only throw me for a loop. While I can see why people embrace this oh-so-festive time of year, I have troubles doing so. You see, Christmas only means fighting for me, both internal and external.
For one, the idea of hanging out with other people and celebrating makes me uncomfortable. Not because I don't like gifts and food, but because I'm usually around a couple people who put me on edge. Either there is something about their personality that irritates me, or they act oddly towards me which makes me feel sort of like a leper. This could be in my head, but I'm a fairly perceptive gal and I highly doubt it.
Another reason is that I hate feeling like a burden. As some of you may know, I'm vegan. I like my vegan ways. They aren't going to change. And despite what people think, it's actually really easy to feed a vegan. Yet, for some strange reason, I find myself with a boiled potato and bland vegetables on my plate nearly every year. I don't complain, of course not, because this is my choice and it's nice they even make an effort, but I'd rather stay home and make my own dinner. At least that way I don't feel like I'm putting anyone out.
Greed is another factor that contributes to my humbug-esque feelings towards the most wonderful time of year. I cannot count how many times I've seen people upset over what they've got for Christmas. In fact, I remember a time when I myself was upset. Though, to be fair, that was with my ex-ex and I spent a month making him this really saucy, sweet book of pictures and poems and junk only to have him hand me a punk music box set. And, to be honest, I would have been perfectly happy with that if he just wrote something meaningful in the card.
He didn't, of course. He wrote two lines which consisted of 'Merry Christmas. Hope this next year is fun.' Like, come on! FUN? I suppose I felt jilted because the sentiment wasn't even there. We worked at a record store, for crying out loud. He didn't even go shopping! He just picked something up when he got off his shift.
Oh, dear. I'm getting myself all worked up.
When I think of Christmases past, I remember feeling awkward and out of place, even amongst my own family. There was always fighting. My mom worked on Christmas, which left me waiting for her to get home in the hopes that things would pick up. Someone always ended up being upset or saying something they weren't supposed to. And I always had an upset tummy. Those were my childhood memories too. I think I've completely blocked out my teenage ones.
This year I am faced with a whole new scenario. With my new (not really) single status, I find myself with absolutely nothing to do. And maybe that's a good thing, but it sort of makes me feel a bit lost. I don't mind being alone, I really don't. I can go watch a movie and make myself soup for dinner. No one will argue with me. I won't have to wait for someone else to be ready to go home. No one will watch me open up the one Christmas gift I have sitting under my tree. Still, I feel like I should be upset.
I'm not saying I am upset. As of right now, I don't know what I feel exactly. This time of year has always been melancholy for me. In fact, I might even go so far as to say I dread it. The worst part is the disappointment. While everyone prances around, singing songs and wrapping gifts, I feel incredibly let down. Christmas is never what I want it to be.
And what I want is so very simple. Romantic, even.
All I want to do is hunker down with someone, preferably the love of my life, watch movies, go out for a stroll around the neighbourhood to look at the lights, and then curling up by the fire with some tea or coco. In my head, my ideal Christmas is spent laughing and talking. There might even be a little love making. Something low key, not filled with countless people and noise and feeling like I'm putting people out. Hey, there might even be an exchange of gifts, either something homemade or from the heart. Where the sentiment is palpable.
And soft kisses, of course. Soft kisses seem to be involved in my ideal Christmas. My ideal birthday, too. And Valentine's Day.
Well, let's just face it, soft kisses make everything better. Rough ones have their time and place as well.
Of course, that won't be happening this year. Probably not next year either. I guess I have a two year plan.
So, I'm not really a Santa-Hater. There's a little beacon of hope that I will one day have a good, no, great Christmas. It just isn't going to be this year. And I'm okay with that. I can wait.
For some reason, I think I'll have to wait until I have my cabin in the woods. Then things will really start to fall into place.
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