The gift of no guilt this Christmas
It’s the time of year when most women I know wish that old Black Magic came in more than a box of chocolates. If only we could conjure a spell (Hark those Herald Angels! Hire Santa’s elves!) to help us check our lists (and check them twice).
We’ve decked the halls in LED lights, baked the cookies and sent season’s greetings on specially recycled cards, the proceeds of which will feed a small village for a month.
We’re running and so is the clock. Meanwhile, well-meaning folks keep asking, So, are you ready for Christmas? No. Never. In my younger years, I decorated every room, threw a party, went to concerts, and barked louder than the dog when anyone unexpected arrived at our door and my house (or hair) was out of order.
Every Christmas Eve, I stayed up late, drinking wine, wrapping gifts until the wee hours. Next morning, blearyeyed, I’d switch beverages, desperately clutching a cup of soulsaving coffee, only to find some sad ribbon work beneath the tree.
Ultimately I would fall off the treadmill in exhaustion and ask myself if maybe the Grinch was onto something when he puzzled and puzzled until his puzzler was sore, wondering if perhaps Christmas wasn’t a little bit more?
Joyfully, the older I get, the slower I run — in the trails and through the mall. Gone is the guilt-driven need to get Christmas just right, for everyone else. My university-aged kids have fewer wants and they certainly don’t include the latest toys I must tangle with fellow moms to find. I say no to cookie exchanges, don’t go to concerts, and drink more eggnog (with less rum).
While a part of me is nostalgic for those early years, I cannot lie: at some point during the festive season, I turned into the Winter Warlock.
I’m not saying I’m always as rosy as the cheeks on Mrs. Claus, but there is a lot more Peace on Earth when you let go of the guilt.
Therapist Michael Formica said in Psychology Today, “Guilt is an attachment to judgment ... it’s a wasted emotion. You are going outside of yourself to define who you are and, by association, how you behave, rather than relying on your internal mechanisms of decision making and self-regulation.”
Which is why, long ago, I decided to stuff my presents into gift bags topped with tissue and regulate my wine intake on Christmas Eve.
A good friend of mine is letting go of the guilt this year, too. She’s had a challenging few months that have taken her out of town and away from the crazyness that is sometimes Christmas.
Back and forth to Saskatchewan, she spent precious time with her dying father.
She is grateful that, along with her mom and siblings, she was at his side when he died, and she is so happy that he received his final wish. In this season of generosity, her father donated his body to medical research at the University of Saskatchewan, where many years ago, he completed his law degree.
Still, it will be a hard Christmas for my friend and understandably she has been struggling to muster her usual might.
She went to work, shopped and wrapped, and filled her fridge, but she ran out of gas when it came to trimming the tree.
Like ghosts of Christmas past, the decorations stored in boxes in her basement whispered to her every time she trudged downstairs, a basket of laundry beneath her arm.
And then — miracle on a Kelowna street.
Just a few days ago, her washing machine announced its retirement by breaking down, but not before running wild and overflowing.
Just this summer, she sandbagged and stored keepsakes in preparation for historic flooding and not a drop of rising lake water seeped into her well-sorted home. Now, a week before Christmas, her boxes were swimming in soapy water.
And yet — while her decor was dampened, not so her spirit.
Right about now in the story you might be guessing that my friend was renewed with determination to make this Christmas as special as all the rest, maybe hit up Homesense for some new seasonal decor. But you’d be wrong. She texted me: “I am no longer feeling guilty about not decorating.”
Plus, she gets new carpeting. Sometimes we need something to go wrong to get it right.
While I don’t recommend turning your hose on in your basement (there is the deductible to deal with), my good-humoured friend took it in stride because the truth is, she’ll be celebrating the spirit of the season with what matters most: time with her beloved family.
Surely, they’ll raise a toast to her father, whom I suspect, might just be winking down on her from the night sky.
Wishing my readers precious time with people you care about, light and love, this Christmas.