First of all, I would like to say happy holidays to those of you who happen across this. This is a very strange time of year. Some of us are lifted up by the love, support, and familiar traditions of the holiday season. Others are reminded of what we lack or have lost, or have secretly hoped for but never had.

 Sometimes we get stuck in the belief that things must be a certain way. I know I’m guilty. And one of those things about the holiday season (Christmas in particular, as that’s the holiday I celebrate) is that seemingly everyone around you supports and reinforces that belief. It sets a high standard for such a simple thing.

When it comes down to it, Christmas is just another day. True, it’s a day we’ve built up for decades, but underneath all of the hype and religious meaning (which I no longer follow), all it is is a day.

For my boyfriend, Christmas Eve has never meant anything. He’s Jewish, and as such he has never been mired in the Christmas Hype. He does not perceive the magic that in my childhood I so cherished. For him, Christmas really ISN’T anything more than another day. Experiencing his outsider’s perspective has been something of a learning experience for me, and it’s something that I both fear and admire in him.

This is my first Christmas away from home. None of my traditions are available to me. There will be no Pajamas on Christmas Eve. I won’t be singing Silent Night to the city from up on the hill. I won’t be up early to raid my stockings on Christmas Morning. Nor will I be watching Yule Log with my sister. No visits to grandma’s. No Swiss Miss in my stocking. No Jesus’s birthday cake. Not for me, no.

What, then, do I do? Does it matter? Why do I so stubbornly cling to tradition? Why do I need this day to be so important?

I guess we all need a high point. A day when no evils can harm us. When we can pretend that there is something perfect out there. (For those of you who believe in God, you’re lucky enough to have your beliefs, and this time of year is especially important for you. 🙂 ) But in the end, I KNOW that Christmas is just one of 365.

But it doesn’t stop me from pouting, moaping, and crying over the fact that it’s just not the same.

This year, I’m spending Christmas with my Jewish boyfriend. I have no choice but to let go of my traditions this year, but I worry… will that kill the last bit of magic I have left? Or will it come back next year?

My biggest fear is that I’m somehow killing off whatever’s left of my inner child. My sense of wonder has already been all but snuffed-out… will this be the final blow?

*sigh* I’m sorry, guys. Sometimes I hate myself for being so negative.

Panther Out