There was a time when I loved Christmas.
As a kid, it meant toys. We used to trim the tree Christmas Eve, have pancakes for dinner and open one present. In the morning, we'd rush down to see what Santa brought. I seem to remember having turkey for dinner at our home most years, but I'm rather vague on that.
I remember some fun Christmases when I first moved to Connecticut. We had several guests--usually people who had no family nearby--our get-togethers were casual and eclectic. I remember one--when I and someone else received a bongo board. We had dueling bongoing going on. (I still have my bongo board in the closet.)
Jeff and I got engaged on Christmas Eve. After that we had to blend holidays together. It worked well for the first several years. We spent Christmas Eve with Jeff's family, and Christmas Day with mine. It got more challenging when parents moved south.
Even with good Christmases, there's always been an undercurrent of pressure. It just seems to get worse for me. The last three Christmases have been stressful. This year I'm trying to force myself into some semblance of Christmas spirit: today I wore red and green and my Christmas earrings. I didn't turn off Christmas music Jeff was listening to when I got home from my ACT class. I put up a few Christmas decorations (but no tree.)
I'm mostly frustrated because I don't have money. I had to put $1500 into my car last month. My work has slowed down a bit, so I don't have much money coming in. Then we'll be at Jeff's sister's house, where they usually have five feet of presents (literally) stacked around the tree. I'm not even getting Jeff any presents this year except stocking stuffers and one or two small practical household type things. We need a new couch and we both need new glasses, and other medical things.
It's not just money. Jeff's father's health is not good, and I'm concerned about my mother.
I realize objectively that I don't have things that bad. But I can't dispel a feeling of unease. I wish I could just skip Christmas.
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