I Hate Christmas

I hate Christmas. I really fucking do. Apologies for such vehement expletives, on this, the high holiday of cheer, but the whole point of public publishing is honesty, is it not?

Before you condemn me as some heartless 'Scrooge', let me just clarify that I am
actually not an unfeeling, anti-social bitch. (Whoops, I'd better reign this cussing in before I am declared a potty-mouth and completely dismissed) Fact of the matter is that I am VERY feeling, VERY caring, and VERY sentimental. That is exactly why I find Christmas so painfully excruciating on so many levels.

Invariably there will be rows (either between family members or you and your partner) over whether the turkey has been cooked long enough, who ate the last piece of pie, and why Shrek is playing on telly when there is vintage Top of the Pops to be had over on BBC 2. But all this is bearable, and not what causes my heart to plummet and my soul to whither. Being a reflective day, and one where everyone is closeted in with their nearest and dearest, drinking, celebrating, and generally being jolly and stuffing their stomachs to piggish points, there is very little else to distract you when you mind starts wandering and you begin to recall the many Christmases of your life.

Some memories will be brilliant, but some will be sad. The passing of years smacks you straight in the face and there is no way to deny that you are getting older and the magic you remember as a child at Christmas simply can't be recreated…

I happen to be paired with a 'non-magical' partner. By this I mean I am with someone who is the antithesis of wonder and spontaneous joy. He is very pragmatic in his outlook and likes 'to-do' lists and schedules. He quite simply cannot comprehend the nostalgic joy of watching cheesy Christmas movies curled on the sofa drinking wine and feeling all warm and cozy. (He eshews Christmas music for 'Queens of the Stone Age' and will happily bury himself in writing code and generally faffing about on his laptop throughout Christmas day with scant care and concern for the anti-climatic feel he spreads throughout our home.)

Nonetheless this is still not the reason I hate Christmas. I blame it on the diet of happy families and unrealistic expectations that I was raised on in North America. All my favourite television shows, magazines, and general pop culture itself made me believe and hope and expect that one day I too might have loved ones gathered around a fire, laughing, celebrating and generally enjoying life (and each other).

The truth – at least in my family – resembles that not a bit. We all love each other, but find it increasingly impossible to communicate inoffensively. Some of us are too sensitive, and some of us not enough. Some of us perpetuate false empty cheer, getting annoyed by long faces, and others of us can't help but wear sombre smiles and wry grins whilst attempting to simply 'get through it'.

I think the bottom line is that if you are HAPPY in your life, you have friends, a great job, loved ones, and a contented outlook – well then Christmas is just merry-fucking-tastic. If on the other hand you are miserable, lonely, unfulfilled and generally angst-ridden, then Christmas will merely bring out the worst in you and cause you to slide down that slippery slope of nostalgia and regret.

Before you know it you will be staring blankly at the telly, daydreaming all sorts of crazy thoughts, and pouring booze down your throat faster than is sensible in an attempt to anesthetise yourself from feeling…anything.

On that (not) cheerful note, off I pop to begin my day with a big glass of champagne. I don't feel like it, and indeed would rather curl up in my bed with a good book, some heroin, and loud music, but that can't happen so I will do the next best thing and 'play along'- my pragmatic (and utterly OBLIVIOUS) partner looking on absentmindedly and wondering why I ain't full of Christmas –fucking – cheer.

'Merry Whatever' everyone….'Sister Scrooge' xx