In all my childhood photos, I was always grinning at the camera like a fool.
People thought of me as an extremely happy child. In report cards, teachers always said the same thing:
Darla is such a quiet and shy child–but always smiling!
I had a certain zest for life back then. Overall, I still do even now, in spite of what the news tells me to feel.
But this time of year, I start to get grumpy. Things begin to get on my nerves. My dark side comes out. Maybe it’s because of the lack of sunlight. Maybe it’s the pressure of everyone telling me to be “merry and bright”. Maybe it’s their insistence that I spread “holiday cheer” and “spend time with loved ones” or “stop yelling at Charlie Brown to buy a real f$#@ing tree for once.”
My therapist tells me it’s good to get these negative feelings out in the open. Own my anger. Clear the air. Be “more real”.
And I think it’s about time I listen to my six year old daughter’s sage advice.
My Christmas Confessional
- Actually, I didn’t love the movie Love Actually. Not even a little bit Like, Actually.
- Candy canes are pure evil wrapped in cellophane. Never hang them on your tree or you’ll hear the kids asking you for one morning, noon and night. Opening those suckers without breaking them is impossible. Scissors won’t work. Usually after tearing at them with my teeth for several minutes, I like to grab a hammer, then smash them into peppermint shards and yell, “You want a candy cane? Here! Have it! Merry Christmas! Make sure you stick it in your sister’s hair when you’re done with it because I have the scissors handy!”
- I think Christmas trees are way too safe and boring nowadays. Whatever happened to stringing up those old lights with the frayed extension cords and the giant bulbs that could melt solid steel? Where’s the lead-laced tinsel? What is my dog supposed to eat now? How will I dispose of her poops by grabbing onto the little tinsel pieces and slinging them over into my neighbor’s yard?
- Why do I fall for drinking egg nog every year? Why does it always taste like nutmeg-flavored milk of magnesia? Why is there never enough rum mixed in there to make me like the movie Love Actually?
- All I want for Christmas is to never hear Mariah Carey sing that song again. Along with Taylor Swift’s We Are Never Ever, Like Totally, Ever, Like O.M.G! Getting Back Together.
- Sledding? Overrated.
- Spending the holidays with the in-laws? All hype.
- I think Santas that are hard of hearing should be fired. When I was seven, I told him all I wanted for Christmas was a Raggedy Ann clock. He yelled, “What did you say, little girl? A wagon and a rock?! You want a wagon and a ROCK?!” and the entire department store burst into cruel laughter as I cried behind my ugly tortoise-shell eyeglasses. As soon as Santa bellowed those terrible words, spraying spit and tobacco fumes into my sweet angelic face, I knew my Christmases would be forever doomed. My brothers gift wrapped a wagon and a rock for me every year after that fateful day. I never got my Raggedy Ann clock. Thanks for nothing, Santa.
Whew! Ah! That was so invigorating! I feel so much better now! Thanks for letting me vent. I think Scrooge was onto something.
How about you? Anything you’d like to get off your chest? Any juicy rants about the holidays? Past childhood traumas? Gifts you never received as a kid? C’mon, let ‘er rip, ’tis the season! I won’t judge! Much.