The real holiday myth isn’t Santa, but the perfect Christmas

I want to talk about the ugly, unspoken myth of Christmas. I hope you’ve girded your loins because this is going to make some folks uncomfortable.

First, a clarification: When I say myth and Christmas in the same sentence, some people may think I’m questioning the birth of Christ or the miraculous fashion in which it took place.

I’m not.

Others may be under the impression that I’d like to have a discussion as to whether or not the chunky dude in the red suit is real.

I don’t. By the way, he’s real enough. I just saw him at Paradise Valley Mall and he seems to be in good health for a guy who’s been around since the third century.

The myth I’m referring to is the myth of the Perfect Christmas.

I’ve struggled during the holidays with situational depression. That’s different than clinical depression but it can still lead to all sorts of problems, not the least of which is being a jerk to my loved ones.

Why do I get depressed and why do I, in turn, take it out on those closest to me? Well, I think the biggest reason was because I was trying like crazy (or at least trying to figure out how) to create Perfect Christmas.

And I was failing miserably.

Plus, I believed that you and your families were out there enjoying Perfect Christmas and I was very jealous.

I believe that a lot of this can be avoided if I can just manage to limit my expectations of what I’m supposed to get out of the holidays and focus more on what I can bring to others at Christmas. But even where others are involved, I still need to limit my expectations.

I have never experienced Perfect Christmas. And, the truth is, I don’t think you have either.

There were many people in my life that worked hard to make the holidays great for me as a kid. I grew up without a dad in my life for the first few years of my existence, but my grandparents and siblings really stepped up and made sure there was lots of presents to open on Christmas morning, a full table at Christmas dinner and moments where our family had an opportunity to express our love and admiration for each other.

But there were plenty of rocky moments as well. We grew up with a mother who suffered from mental illness and (at times) severe, debilitating depression. She was a kind, wonderful woman but she had her demons and they often lead to awful arguments, ugly things being said, folks storming out of the house, etc.

That might be why I was so bound and determined when I became a parent to create Perfect Christmas for my family.

Unfortunately, Perfect Christmas is a freakin’ myth.

I learned some tough lessons along the way as I kept hoping, year after year, that things would be like a Christmas card for my family. But all I ended up doing was making myself unhappy pursuing something that never existed in the first place.

I’m a little calmer these days. And I have lowered my expectations. Not because I don’t want the best for my family and not because I don’t think the best times of our lives can happen during the holidays. They absolutely can!

But even when things turn out great, they never turn out exactly the way I thought they would and rolling with the punches has made life a lot more fun.

Did your dog steal the turkey off the table? Did a kid knock over the Christmas tree at your house? Did you completely miss the mark and gift a Seahawks Snuggie to a Cardinals fan who runs their A/C in January? You’re blessed.

Those are the best holiday stories! I mean, you won’t sit around in future years talking about how perfectly the fire crackled in the hearth and how awesome the tree looked.

We are a lot more likely to remember the moments that made for a non-perfect Christmas. And whether I choose to laugh or cry about them is really the only thing I have much control over.

So, I wish for you and yours a merry (and somewhat flawed) Christmas. It’s the best I can hope for.

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