All my life, it’s been drilled into me that Christmas is the season of giving. It started as a child, with Christmas books that presented a beautiful story of love and togetherness, and ended happily ever after. The problem is that this “happily ever after” often coincided with the main character sitting in a pile of presents, or receiving the one toy he or she really wanted. From the very beginning it was as much about what you got as what you gave.
I believe this is the reason that for almost all of my life, Christmas has been only partially about family and making others happy. In retrospect, the majority of my feelings and thoughts around Christmas revolved around what I was getting. And even if I did get that new camera or tons of books, Christmas kept losing more and more of its magic. Again and again, I struggled with the letdown that Christmas inevitably brought. Was it the lack of snow, or decorations or Christmas smells? I had no idea. But for some reason this year was different.
It’s not because I was away from my family so long and could appreciate them more because of the separation. It wasnít that I got a lot of things that I had wanted — in fact, I didnít get much at all. Here on campus, I have an aptly named “suicide single,” so the last thing I want is more stuff.
I think it might have been that for the first time I had someone really depending on me. My family lives in a very isolated location. We have one grocery store, one convenience store and one combination clothing/hardware/electronic/everything else store. When the internet works, it’s hit or miss (most often miss) on whether online stores will actually ship merchandise to us. So I brought back necessities as well as true “gifts” when I visited home for winter break. For once, it didn’t even matter whether I had found the right brand or model. I’ve always worried about buying the perfect gift for people. If I couldn’t find something that I knew they would love, I didn’t get anything at all. I was too afraid of seeing their disappointment, or somehow hurting their feelings by giving something they really didnít want. So I avoided birthdays and special occasions like a plague, and usually refused gifts in turn, thinking that people would be far too stressed out about what to get me. In retrospect, that was pretty silly of me. So much for “it’s the thought that counts.”
But my perspective finally changed this break. It may have been something about jumping into what is not only a new year, but also a new decade. I’m hoping it’ll actually stick with me, and not just be a passing fancy. Birthdays of siblings and friends will finally stop feeling like an exam that I really need to pass. My own birthday will be a day to be glad I’m alive, rather than a source of anxiety and guilt that I’m putting loved ones through the trauma of finding something I like. And Christmas will keep being a celebration rather than a disappointment Maybe this is something that everyone else realized years ago. But for me, it’s way overdue.
Kris Fronzak is a Viewpoints editor for the Voice. She can be reached for comment at HKFronzak@gmail.edu.