Updated: Jan. 3, 2023
Originally Published: Dec. 7, 2015
‘Tis the season to be… judgmental?
Hold on a second—when did the holidays become a battleground for how we believe others should celebrate? Who gets to decide what is considered appropriate? Is Christmas meant to emphasize spirituality, family bonding, generosity, food, friendship, gifts, or some combination of these elements?
Christmas is a remarkable holiday, able to bridge cultures, religions, and generations. While it’s rooted in Christian traditions, many non-Christian families have embraced it in various ways. Concepts like Festivus, Chrismukkah, and Black Friday have emerged from the original holiday, each creating its own unique identity while still drawing inspiration from that core festive spirit. Who doesn’t adore a jolly figure in a bright red suit?
Yet, with the holiday season comes the so-called Christmas police. Amid the barrage of diamond commercials, classic tunes, and countdowns to “the big day,” discussions arise: What is the “true” essence of Christmas? Should it center around Santa, gifts, and treats, or should we relegate Saint Nick to the sidelines in favor of nativity scenes, church services, and the story of Baby Jesus?
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard one side accuse the other of tarnishing the Christmas spirit through commercialization, religious extremism, overindulgence, or whatever holiday tradition they find unworthy. The only consensus seems to be that everyone eagerly anticipates this cherished celebration, likely because of nostalgic memories from their childhood rituals. At the core, we all yearn for the same thing: to recapture that enchanting feeling we experienced as children during those long winter nights spent with loved ones.
Is it really possible to get that wrong?
I grew up in a home devoid of meaningful traditions—cultural, familial, or otherwise. We were a dysfunctional unit, and as such, we celebrated this revered holiday in whatever manner seemed fitting for us. My father had a knack for gift-giving, which was peculiar since it appeared to be the only shopping he did throughout the year. For eleven months, he was aloof, argumentative, and self-centered, but as December approached, something shifted.
The only time I ever witnessed my parents leaving the house together without us was during the weeks leading up to Christmas. They would return home, whispering conspiratorially and sneaking bags of surprises down the hallway to their bedroom, away from prying eyes. In most families, this would be a non-issue, but my parents rarely communicated, let alone conspired—except during the holidays.
Years later, after earning a degree in psychology and gaining distance from my childhood, I’ve come to realize that my father’s apparent transformation each Christmas was merely a reflection of his limitations. His way of expressing love was through material gifts. He might have overlooked my existence during school projects, friendships, heartbreaks, and teenage turmoil, but on that one December day, he believed he could compensate for it all by presenting me with the perfect gift.
Would I have preferred a more engaged and caring father? Absolutely. But that’s an adult perspective looking back on a troubled youth. At the time, I had no other frame of reference. All I knew was that for a couple of weeks each year, my family resembled those I saw in movies and on television.
On Christmas morning, I would wake up to find my home transformed: my little brother sleeping beside my bed, my parents actually in the same room instead of one on the sofa, and the previously bare tree now adorned with shiny decorations and surrounded by piles of gifts. We would share breakfast and spend the day unwrapping presents and watching the same holiday movies on repeat.
I recognize now that all that glitter and glitz was a poor substitute for the stable environment every child deserves, yet I still feel a surge of excitement each year when the Christmas tree is decorated and the lights illuminate the room, as if they are answering some unvoiced question in my heart. I steadfastly refuse to let go of the few traditions I remember from those times, as doing so would feel like saying goodbye to a cherished friend during a challenging period.
For me, Christmas is about sharing the scant happy memories I have with my children and desperately clinging to that feeling of warmth and safety throughout the year. I believe that is what everyone seeks during the holiday season.
I may overindulge in shopping, purchasing too many gifts, stringing up excessive holiday lights, and watching “A Christmas Story” far more than is reasonable. But it’s not because I’ve been swept away by a materialistic culture and lost sight of Christmas’s true meaning; quite the contrary.
As a parent, I strive to ensure my children do not grow up in the same environment I experienced. The holiday season is the one time I want to share with them the traditions from my childhood, no matter how flawed they might have been.
So, the next time you hear someone criticizing another family’s holiday choices, remember that at the heart of it all, we all desire the same things: love, acceptance, security, and a few small treats. Christmas spirit doesn’t need to look identical across families or households, but it consistently shines through in the faces of children on Christmas morning. Isn’t that what the holiday is truly about?
For further insights into parenting and holiday traditions, check out the excellent resource on pregnancy at the CDC or explore tips on boosting fertility through supplements. Understanding parental leave terminology can also help new parents navigate the challenges of family life.
Summary
This article reflects on the complexities of celebrating Christmas in a dysfunctional family, emphasizing the universal desire for love, acceptance, and joy during the holiday season. The author shares personal anecdotes about their childhood experiences, highlighting the importance of cherishing memories and creating traditions, despite imperfections.