…and maybe that’s okay (Christmas makes you stupid part two)
You fall in love with Christmas when you’re a kid, or at least I did, and I think I’m far from alone. If you’re like me, you have a fairly stable relationship after with it later. At some point though the doubts creep in. Is this the kind of holiday I want? If everyone expects you to be jolly and/or merry, does that make it easier or harder to be sincere about it? And what is a Noel anyway?*
Then comes the rocky stretch, where you’re maintaining the fiction of having a healthy relationship with Christmas for the sake of appearances. Maybe there’s an ugly scene or two where you end up screaming at the Christmas tree, or kicking the Yule log.
Everyone knows what’s coming. The Christmas breakup. The end of the affair. Afterward you feel bitter, but a little nostalgic too. Time passes, and the bitterness fades, leaving only the wistful regret at Christmas Past.
This is why it’s a good thing that Christmas conspires to make you stupid. You heal better when you’re not constantly picking at the wound. Then, one year, you’re at a stoplight, minding your own business, and you realize not only that Joy to the World has been playing on the radio, but you’ve been singing along, and you’re in the middle of the descant in the refrain.
And you’re okay with it. You see the holiday for what it is to you, not what it is to everyone else, and you can live with it again. At least until they play Little Drummer Boy.
*Yes, I know what a Noel is. This is a retrospective question asked by some metaphorical me of the past, not a request for information or links to Wikipedia.