I have listed “Christmas” as my all-time favorite holiday in many BuzzFeed Quizzes. At any “Christmas” is synonymous with “magic.” As the years passed, however, the various Christmas adventures to Disneyland, the family ski trips to Reno, and gift-giving, tree-lighting, Christmas-caroling experiences have accumulated to make Christmas the single biggest letdown of my year.
But before I get attacked by the citizens of Whoville, who think the Grinch has returned, allow me to explain. A common phenomenon, dubbed by CBS’s How I Met Your Mother as “Graduation Goggles,” occurs when something terrible is shortly thereafter recalled with poignant nostalgia.
Of course, peppermint bark, candy canes, and eggnog allow me to think of Christmas as less than terrible, but the holiday has admittedly become a bit mundane ever since my parents decided that the holiday break is an opportunity to catch up on the studying.
Candy canes are exchanged for textbooks, Christmas stories become 3-page essays, and soon the day of celebration and joy dissipates into the “crying on the floor watching Netflix” holiday.
There’s a certain holiday spirit lacking in my household. We have no decorations, no lights, not even a tree. I get one candy cane (two if I’m really lucky), and the only other connections I have to any sort of holiday cheer are price markdowns.
I don’t even get Christmas gifts; instead, my mom gives me $100 dollars to go online and restock my wardrobe, which I already do on a seasonal basis. If my best friend’s little brother comes over, the Club Penguin world we always end up logging in on would be decked out in lights, ornaments, and Santa hats. Turning away from the screen, I too often notice how sad and banal my plain white walls look.
No snow. No lights. No presents. Without these things, December is just like any other month.
While other people enjoy the warm, fire-lit ambiance, I have never once felt Christmas-y. The experiences I’ve had in early childhood have raised the bar that succeeding Christmases have repeatedly failed to meet.
And then, of course, there’s that year when my parents told me Santa wasn’t real. It didn’t come as a surprise to me, as I had always suspected it, but I have also stopped receiving simple wrapped gifts, one of the traditions I truly enjoyed as a child.
But alas, I have grown to accept it. Sure, I might not have a real Christmas experience, but does it really matter? I’m still able to enjoy the free chocolate, peppermints, and Secret Santa gifts.
I know many people in the same boat, whose only connections to the holidays are minty food and irritating remixes of “Jingle Bells.” But instead of looking at it as a commercialized holiday full of gaudy decorations, the 25th can just be enjoyed as a day of relaxation, filled with gifts and hot cocoa. Rather than criticizing it as an overrated holiday, I’ve grown to view it as a typical day with unique highlights.
At least I get 3 weeks of Netflix binge-ing and multiple shopping sprees.
That’s better than nothing.
