The Elusive Spirit of Christmas
The stress I put myself under, trying to achieve the perfect holiday is a tradition in itself . It comes from a well-meaning place—I really want to show my love by doing special things, buying special gifts. In fact, I want you to be so fucking happy that I eventually feel validated--as a woman, mother and human being. That’s a lot of pressure to feel, much less project onto others. “Will she like this?” “I hope I don’t hurt his feelings.” “Did I make enough food?” “What if someone isn’t gleeful (and showing it)?” My poor kids! All that mismatched energy blasted at them, twisting their stomachs, just like mine did as a child. Nothing rings Christmas bells louder than high anxiety and IBS. In my house growing up, opening gifts was a performance. If you had a gift, all eyes were on you. How you reacted to that gift was a math equation. My mom's facial expression equaled our enthusiasm divided by the n...