I have an admission to make. I’m not a holiday person. Any more.
I loved holidays growing up. Would salivate as Christmas approached, and not because it was Jesus’ birthday. I couldn’t have cared less about Him back then. It was all about the pressies. I could barely contain my excitement when Christmas Eve rolled around.
It’s miraculous I was able to sleep at all. But no matter how late I stayed up, no matter how long I giggled and whispered with my brother and sister, I woke up magically at 3am. Every single year without fail, and without the aid of alarms.
There was a rule in my house, though. Parents were not allowed to be jarred to consciousness until 6am. I had no idea why this ridiculous law existed. After all, it wasn’t like they were doing the work. Santa was the one kicking ass and taking names…hopefully mine was on the Nice List. But no waking up the folks until 6.
So we kids were forced to struggle with nothing more than our gigantosaurus Christmas stockings for three fucking hours while Dad and Mom lazed away in bed. First I’d wake up my brother and sister, then we’d squee with delight as we tiptoed gingerly - and by gingerly I mean with the grace of a herd of buffalo - down the stairs to a glorious lighted tree with presents spread out underneath and throughout half the living room.
We grabbed our stockings and lugged them back upstairs to our rooms. Well, Karin came into Chris’ and my room. And we poured our goodies out on the beds. Candy, small books, Matchbox cars, dolls, comics, Silly Putty, multicolored pencils…all stuff that kept us occupied for a good 20 minutes or so until we were so hopped up on sugar we were pinging off the walls. With another 2 hours and 40 minutes left to wait.
I’m sure Mom and Dad heard us downstairs. Chris’ and my room was right above theirs. But apparently, parents can sleep through graceful buffalo like you wouldn’t believe. Probably because they got drunk the night before, anticipating Santa’s touchdown. They got to hang out with Santa when he got there, told him that I was probably not nearly as bad as what he’d heard through the nefarious North Pole grapevine, convinced him to leave the coal in the sleigh, and all that.
But we waited, and waited, and waited. DAYS. Until the clock showed it was 5:59am. And you can bet your sweet ass that we were knocking on our parents’ door at the very STROKE of 6.
“It’s 6 o’clock!” we’d squeal to very little reaction from the bed. “Dad! Mom! It’s 6 o’clock!”
*groan*
“It’s Christmas! Merry Christmas!” we’d all shout repeatedly and tirelessly for the few minutes it took to pry open their eyes and hear them say, “OK, OK! Go out to the living room and we’ll be right there.”
But they wouldn’t be right there. Instead they tortured us by getting dressed first, and then having to go to the kitchen to make the vile substance known as coffee, and we couldn’t open presents until the coffee was ready and those were the days before automatic programmable coffeemakers, which would have had the shit ready before they stepped their slippered feet into the living room.
Five fucking minutes we’d have to wait. Sometimes we didn’t even hear the first shred of wrapping paper before 6:08! Can you believe that shit?
And what a whirling dervish of paper it was after that! We ripped into each package swiftly and with great precision, tossing anything clothes-shaped to the back of the tree and saving those things for last. The Disney Haunted Mansion Game, a Talking G.I. Joe with Kung Fu Grip, coloring books, model cars, another few books in the Bobbsey Twins series, Lite Brite (making things with Lite!), a Captain Kirk doll with Mr. Spock and the Enterprise Bridge with Built-in Transporter, a mechanical tank that ran ruggedly over anything as steeply inclined as a comic book, Operation, the Welcome Back Kotter Game…the list went on and on. And I’m leaving out the girly shit because who really cared about that stuff, except for my sister?
Then, hours and hours later, we’d be forced to get dressed so we could leave our fantastic new toys behind and travel to all our relatives’ houses for more presents. And food. Torture.
Years later, as a teenager, I was much less enthusiastic about Christmas. We were in New Mexico at that point, and I was a disc jockey at a local radio station. And we were poor. Food stamps poor. Christmas became smaller and less exciting. Keep in mind that I wasn’t the slightest bit religious, so I didn’t care about those parts of the holidays. I got more and more clothes as gifts and, yes, they were needed but since when was Christmas about getting what you need?
By then, I was struggling to get out of bed early myself. The 3am wakenings were long gone and I could see what Mom and Dad had been saying all along. Sleep. Goooooood.
It wasn’t until I had my own children…a scant four years later…that Christmas resumed being fun. It was then that I realized Christmas is really about the children. It’s fun to watch everything through their bright and amazed eyes. It was also then that I realized precisely why my parents wanted to sleep until at least 6 in the morning.
Flash forward another five years or so. Divorce. Depression. Yes, I still had my daughters for Christmas (or the week after Christmas, alternating years), and yes, it was still fun to have them. But I missed family. I missed MY family. Not my parents and siblings, I mean the family I’d had for six years, the one that got torn out from under me. Things just weren’t the same.
And let’s face it, they haven’t been the same since. Sure, I discovered spirituality, even religion, and Christmas took on a whole new meaning. But the family part? I miss it. Sometimes dearly. To this day, whenever I dream of my now-adult twin daughters, they’re 5 or 6. I’ve had some serious relationships since my divorce…a few. But never came close to marriage.
The holidays now just kind of…are. I realized years ago that, while my depression is chronic, it’s definitely affected by this time of year. I’ll be going to my sister’s in a few days for Thanksgiving and I love being around my nieces, but it’s kind of bittersweet because, well, it’s a reminder of precisely what I don’t have.
Now I view the holidays as a chore, to be quite frank. More than anything else, it’s work. It means putting on a happy little face and driving around to this house and that house and making lots of cheerful phone calls and wrapping presents. Granted, a lot of the shopping torture is minimized thanks to the Internets, but still…I suck at wrapping and there seems to be so MUCH of it.
I feel like I’m just going through the motions most of the time. Happy Thanksgiving. Merry Christmas. Happy Hannukah and all that shit. I admit that sometimes I feel that wistful little boy inside when I drive by an elaborately decorated house at night, all the lights twinkling and the inflatable snowmen smiling. But for the most part I’m just phoning it in.
If I had the power, I’d probably fast forward 6 weeks once we hit mid-November. Just past the new year.
But then, aren’t the days already fast forwarding enough? One birthday blurring into the next, one Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Years Eve smudging the next. It seems that just yesterday I was freshly divorced in my mid-20s. I blinked and now I have these lines on my face, a basketball in my belly, and I’m suddenly 42? How the fuck did that happen?
I keep praying for the new year to get here quickly, but truthfully? What I really, really want? Is for Christmas to be magic again. For me to have something to look forward to. A significant other.
How about that shit, Santa?
Filed under Depression, Local Goings On |25 Responses to “All I Want For Christmas is the Mojo Back”
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Man, I totally hear what you’re saying. The last truly magically magical Christmas I had, I was 17. The later ones with the kids when they were tiny were wonderful…but Christmas had become *their* time. As it should be. I guess you could say the torch had been passed. But still… It would be nice to have that… wonder?…is that what it was, wonder?… back.
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James - Wonder, yeah. Perfect word for it. I’d love to have that again.
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Wow. This hit home in so many ways… I get to see it through my grandkid’s eyes now, and that’s awesome, but yeah…not the same.
Santa? Are you listening?
Awesome post.
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I hope Santa is listening, Karl. I really do.
(((((((Hugs)))))))
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Tug - Grandchildren? Bite your tongue! I already feel old enough as it is.
Stephanie - Thanks. Me too.
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I love it when you get all vulnerable and shit.
Christmas in our house when I was a kid was just magical.
We were poor. As kids, we did not know this. Mainly because every year all of us would wake up Christmas morning and there would be so many presents in the living room that there was never any place to sit. We would have to stake our claim to whatever 12×12 square inch spot we could fit our butts over.
We never thought as kids what it took for my parents to pull this off. They sacrificed a lot for us kids.
As I grew older I appreciated what that effort meant. It meant my father working two jobs, my mother working nights. We sacrificed a lot as a result of that as well. We never got to see our parents much until the weekends.
For a while, I hated Christmas. That was during the time that my ex would come home from the bar Christmas eve and beat the living shit out of me for his amusement. Not just once, but several times over our relationship. I did not have the courage or strength to do anything about it then. I thought I deserved it. I’m a long way from that now.
It has taken me the last 15 years to get that out of my head and heart. And now I look forward to celebrating the holidays as never before.
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Honey, this was a really well-written post.
I can appreciate that it seems like Christmas becomes all about the kids when you get older, however I’ve found that I simply appreciate different aspects of it now than I used to.
I love finding and wrapping presents for people. I love getting together with my brother and baking. I still love stockings (more than the presents themselves). I know it’s burdensome having to traipse around and be merry, but I think everyone just needs to find their own joy in the season. It’s there somewhere…
xo
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We had the same 6:00 rule. We could not get out of bed or knock on the parent’s door until 6:00 and at the very strike of 6 we were beating the door down. Of course, my parents went a step further. We were not allowed anywhere near the tree or the stockings or the goodies until the Christmas tree lights were on, and damn if they didn’t take their sweet ass time getting to that tree. They may have been awake but they weren’t turning on those lights until they were good and ready. And we were stuck in our bedrooms until then.
My kids now? Would sleep the day away, as if it was just any other day. I’m the one waking them up at the crack of dawn. What is wrong with them?
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I hope you have a good time at your sister’s place. I’m not trying to diminish anything you’re feeling by reminding you that the best way to attract something is by letting it go. I do greatly empathize with your feeling of loneliness (or disconnectedness), though.
I think Buddha said, “Nobody saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may. We ourselves must walk the path.” Umm, if that quote pissed you off, pls don’t get mad at me… it was Buddha… what the hell did he know??
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Dude. That bummed me out. You should smoke some pot and play guitar. That’s what I would do.
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Mattie - Man, glad you got out of that situation. Thanks for sharing.
Princess - Gotta find that joy, joy, joy.
Ms Batman - Not until the lights are on? We left them on all night. Gotta learn them kids right about getting up too freaking early.
Faiqa - Fucking Buddha.
Black Hockey Jesus - I wish!
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It’s not quite the time of year when I post my own Santa story. Look for it in about two or three weeks if you’re interested.
Man, midlife crisis sure sucks, doesn’t it? (Not mocking. I’m serious.)
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A grandchild. You need a grandchild. They bring back the magic.
That whole first part sounded almost exactly like our Christmas’ when I was little. Thank you for the fond memories.
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Kris - If this is a midlife crisis, I’ve been having it for decades.
Shelli - Hiya! If I have a grandchild any time soon, I’m going to freak.
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…it’s a reminder of precisely what I don’t have.
I can totally relate to this post on so many levels. As much as I honestly try to keep a positive attitude, if it weren’t for my daughter, the holidays would mean absolutely nothing to me. Even now, for the most part it is drudgery. As you say, I’m phoning it in. Sad, but true. I just have to continue to remind myself to count my blessings and remember that if it weren’t for the grace of God, I could be living on the street. That always makes me feel better.
Anyway…I like Black Hockey Jesus’ solution to the holiday blues. lol
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I’ve never had magical christmases. I always hated the holidays growing up because with every holiday came a huge fight between my parents and as always whatever toy i got would inevitably be broken in the fights.
But don’t get me wrong I love Christmas, I just wish I didn’t have to grow up to appreciate what it was supposed to be about.
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This is, by far, my favorite time of the year. I haven’t cared about presents since I was a kid and I have been agnostic even longer, but something about goodwill and Bing Crosby just gets me all giddy. Plus, seasonal beers rule.
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Then I hope you’re one of the ones it doesn’t end up hitting. It’s wicked. I hear it’s a lot worse for men. It sucks enough for women.
Hang in there sweetie. The only way to go is up, right? (((HUGS)))
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Hey, some of us are trying to get through this holiday season in denial. I certainly don’t need to read things like this reminding me of how I actually feel. Thanks a lot.
Seriously though, I hope you find that magic again.
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Am I allowed to admit that this is probably my favourite post of yours, even if it is calling out Santa and a little sad? Because in those paragraphs, I learned more about you than I have in the months that I’ve been reading your blog.
You were married? You have kids? I don’t know why, but these revelations actually fill in MASSIVE gaps for me. Like, the online version of you that I know actually makes more sense than before. (Are you still in contact with your daughters? Is there a post you can link to that shares more of that side of you?)
Christmas can be depressing, but so can a lot of other times. I know that for me, the key is to try and focus on the moment you’re in, the people you’re with, and not those you’re missing. It’s not the same thing, but spending Christmas Day with my in-laws (where I am, at best, a second-class family member) is easier when I don’t think about my family, and instead just try to spend time with my kids. But realistically, I don’t think that’d work for you, so I’ve got nothing.
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I’ve always hated Christmas, quite frankly. People have way too high and way too many expectations for a day that’s just a day.
We should concentrate on the good in our lives and not diminish what we have just because of a “day”..
Of course it’s different when you’re suffering from depression to begin with. I just mean in general for people who get depressed just thru the holidays.
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Karl, I did want to add that this holiday is also very tough on my family especially my husband since we lost his mom last year to a heart attack.
And she was one of those people who LIVED for Christmas. She loved to give and it especially came out that day. The look on her face as we all opened her presents and how happy she got everytime the front door opened because it meant one more family member or friend to share the day with…
Well.. it just won’t be the same this year. That’s for sure.
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When I was a kid my mother went to great lengths to make sure we felt the magic of Christmas. I guess the “magic of Christmas” is all about the presents though, because by 6:20 (we had that 6am rule too, unless my dad was getting something truly awesome and woke up before us kids) we were kinda like, “Wait, that’s it?”
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Sometimes I think the Nov/Dec holidays were enacted for the express purpose of reminding people of exactly what they don’t have and making them wish for it all the more… and, as with you and I, it usually involves the “f” word (family, you pottymouths!)The only thing I like about Christmas is watching my kids enjoy the fruits of gluttonous consumerism on steroids. The rest sucks ass.
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Ginger - I think many of us relate more than we know.
Sarah - Aw, that’s kinda sad. I think every kid needs at least one magical holiday to look back on.
Whit - Seasonal beers DO rule.
Kris - Great point.
Noraisins - Um, you’re welcome?
SciFi Dad - Thanks. I’m glad you liked it. I don’t write often about my kids, but yes, I have twin daughters. They’re 21 now and in college. Yeah, there are some posts I could point you to if my archives weren’t all frakked up.
Twinkie - Well said. I need to focus more on the good.
Stacey - ha!
Izzy - For me, it’s all about the kids. And this year, I’m spending more on a family in need than my own family. That’s kinda magical for me.
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