Exercising My Christmas Demon
Anxiety. Expense. Transcendence.
(You may be asking why, in the month of October, I am writing about Christmas, but the supply-chain upsets and cargo ships full of stuff waiting their turn in port has meant the Christmas Demon has descended early)
Every year, as Christmas and its fond childhood memories of toys and togetherness looms nearer and nearer, well-meaning women will say, have you finished your Christmas shopping yet, I have only one more to buy! Something takes over me, something that was utterly foreign to me in my youth, an ugly spirit who visits only sad and tired adults, which I will refer to as the Christmas Demon.
The Christmas Demon doesn’t want to buy anyone anything because we are all drowning in stuff as it is. Because it is rather obscene Christmas morning to see all that wrapping paper and gifts almost immediately tossed aside in favor of the ever-coveted next unopened gift.
This must be the same dark force that subsumed poor Scrooge, and maybe even what so darkened the heart of the Devil himself. The Christmas Demon doesn’t want to pick out outfits (which usually have to be purchased, oh the expense, and yet another to-do) and brush everyone’s hair for a holiday card photo. This holiday photo business of plastered on smiles and filtered glowing skin is, I have to say it, a lie! And the worst kind, because it costs time and money.
While other people delight in decorating for the holiday, signing carols and baking a ridiculous assortment of cookies that are no longer fashionable to actually eat, I stew in my own misery. You’d think work would provide a welcome respite from all this celebration, but oh no. There, too, the unrelenting Christmas Spirit has taken hold. Sign up for the holiday treat table! Enter the cube decorating contest! Don’t forget to buy a gift (no more than $20) for the White Elephant party! Oh look, it’s a wine condom!!!
By this point, you must be feeling a little sad for me, that Christmas is such a joyless affair, that I view it as the worst kind of work, keeping up appearances. Other well-meaning people will say, you must remember the reason for the season, to which I say Baby Jesus doesn’t need all this, I’m quite sure. And from there I am banished for enternity from the joyful kingdom.
I have a memory of my father saying to me you always ruin Christmas. I must have been about thirteen or fourteen. I don’t know what happened to prompt it, I’m sure I was being annoying, upsetting my mother with some obnoxious behavior. I always ruin Christmas.
Last Christmas morning, I sat there relieved I had finally finished the wrapping in time only for it to all be undone in what seemed like seconds flat, toys ripped from their packing, their insanely small pieces already scattered across the floor (under mounds of ribbon and wrapping). I thought very clearly there is no torture quite like Christmas. Thankfully my children have their dad and grandparents who shower them with a simpler, less destructive form of the holiday spirit.
I guess I can’t get past the fact that I am now responsible for all that Christmas magic. It’s work! When I was kid, I got to just show up and it was delightful. My mother had done all that work, without complaint, at least within my hearing. (Adults don’t tell you the horror of what is coming.)
Our last pre-pandemic Christmas, I looked at my father slumped on the couch. We made eye contact and cringed as yet another several rounds of gifts from the grandparents were passed out for the kids to open. The two of us wanted nothing more than to eat our breakfast.
Having said all I just said about this horrid holiday, I am still not ready to Marie Kondo it to the dustbin. What’s this? Have I happened upon a bit of joy?
This may not be joy, exactly, but if I can shut up my anxiety ridden Christmas Demon for just a minute… We odd humans are at our best when we have a story to unite us, and when we remember to remember the story.
The story of Christmas is a strange one for sure, a mixture of a celebration of winter, an ancient impulse to feast and be merry, all of this with a baby thrown in (and everyone loves a baby). It’s kind of a serious baby, one that would go on, the story goes, to die for our sins. But still, a baby! So if you are a practicing Christian, this is a holiday for you! If you like to eat and see your family in whatever form that takes, this is a holiday for you! If you like to shop, boy is this ever the holiday for you!
If you are a tired, joyless day-job having mom who can’t afford to take the month of December off, well, you may struggle this time of year. But I think we all need to take a load off. The magic (or curse) of Christmas is a time-tested affair and not so easily ruined.
This year I aim to enjoy this trial we call Christmas (ok, I aim for that every year, but I mean it this time!). I will open my ears to the music, admire the decorations, pay attention to the being together. I have much to celebrate in this life and it’s time I figured out how to rise to the occasion. I aim to buy fewer things this go round (the incessant buying of things seems to feed the demon). Wish me luck.
