Why I Hate Christmas, Part I

Ok, so I've been battling over writing this post for a while now. Why you ask? (and if you didn't ask, well you should've. come on, get in the game, chief) Because I'm lazy, mostly, but also because I was afraid my words would come out less than coherent and I would be left confusing you and probably confused myself. Apologies from the onset. With this lovely and probably pointless introduction out of the way, here be the post:

I hate Christmas. Or, better put, up until a week or so ago I hated Christmas. Ok, maybe 'hate' is a strong word, how about this: I had a strong dislike and aversion toward the Christmas season until most recently. Why you ask? (and if you didn't ask, refer to mild scolding contained in introduction) For many reasons, among them being:
1) For the first 23 years of my life, Christmas decorations were a big deal in our home. I didn't care about them. Every year (well, every year since I was able to lug a plastic Frosty) I was forced asked to help bring everything out of storage and set it up (and there was a lot; lights, manger & faux lean-to barn, plastic people and animals, lighted stars and the like). It got old. Fast. Especially when I had already married and moved away from home and was still called back to help.
2) Family. I am a bad, bad person for the simple fact that I do not like much of my family. It's really nothing they have done to me (well, for some it is), I just find myself feeling alienated and apart from much of my family. Let me make this clear, it is not their fault. It's me. I'm the one with the problem. What that problem is, I'm not sure. I loved my family, yet found myself growing increasingly tired of bouncing from family gathering to family gathering during the holiday season. There was just so much stress involved with knowing who to get gifts for, who to not expect gifts from, and faking that I like the gift my great aunt Fanny gave me. See what I mean, it's me. I am a bad, bad person.
3) I didn't hear a whole lot about Jesus' birth, and when I did much of it felt forced or cliche or inauthentic, like we had to talk about it because it was that time of year. After the obligatory remembrances and recognitions we can put it to bed till next year. So much my focus during the holiday became on buying presents, setting up pretty lights, and spending time with people that I'd rather not. (you don't know how hard it is for me to write this because my family really is great, I love them all dearly, they're just... taxing. I love them, I really do...) In fact, I may be the problem here, too. After so many years of hearing the cliches, I became so cynical that I avoided the topic of Jesus' birth almost altogether.

So I have grown to dread the Christmas season because it requests so much from me. What I'm beginning to see is that I am growing to love the Christmas season for what it requests of me. Its requests were not exactly what I had come to see them to be, but we'll save that for the next post, you've had enough to read for right now. Rest your eyes. Curl up with a warm cup of eggnog and enjoy your family. We'll catch up later.