Black and White Christmas

If I start writing that I don’t like Christmas I immediately imagine one of a few reactions amongst the reader, possibly leading those who are just scanning for interest to leave at this point. The hardest to take of these reactions is more of a withering look which I take to mean something like “you’re trashing something sacred to me”. No one says this but I see it on their faces and it pains me because I don’t want to poop their party. In fact more than that – I actually want to be invited to their party – have a few drinks and share some of that feeling that we’re all celebrating together.

This really confuses people. Because the minute I tell them I don’t like Christmas they organise me in their minds so as not to offend my over-sensitive killjoy-ness and try to avoid mentioning anything festive in my presence. At least until next year when they will have forgotten. 

The thing is – like all of the things – it’s more complex than that. 

When I think about it – I imagine that the slight heart sink reaction people often get when I mention my aversion to the festive season – is quite similar to the feeling I have when they bring it up. This sort of visceral, pit of the stomach doom sensation suggests to me that what is being stirred is an echo, a trigger, a ghost of Christmas past. 

As an aside,  my use of the word trigger, a phenomenon increasingly edging its way (rightly in my view) into common parlance,  reminded me of an “open mic” I went to last week. They now have “trigger warnings” before songs or poems which might have upsetting content for some people. I grin inwardly at the thought of a trigger warning before “Away in a manger”. (This would not be needed for me as this carol is associated with good memories for some reason). 

I don’t like Christmas because it brings back ways in which I felt excluded and othered as an isolated  jewish child in Cardiff. I don’t like that my parents didn’t completely avoid christmas and throw it all into Chanukah. Instead they did a “bit of Christmas for the kids”. We had presents, Christmas dinner and watched Wizard of Oz. We didn’t have decorations or a tree and I had a sense of guilt that my mother was sacrificing a culture she loved to give me something I hadn’t asked for. It wasn’t a bad time – just a confusing one for me. I know my parents were motivated by trying to make us happy too. 

Understanding all this I really wish I was better able to do what nearly everyone wants me to to do. Just get over it!!! Failing that – keep my reaction to myself and try not to spoil other people’s fun. Believe you me – I really try to do that and am succeeding most of the time. A few years ago when working with homeless young people I challenged myself to get more involved, so I dressed up as Santa and sang Christmas songs for the children for several years running. (There are lots of Christmas songs which do it for me). I even dressed as scrooge for a work xmas do to get into the spirit. I have a black “Bah Humbug” hat which I get out for festive events to show what a good sport I am. 

But the thing is – the heart sink feeling hasn’t gone away yet. The only thing which seems to settle it is to find some gentle way of letting people know that not everyone has that same reaction at the thought of the season of goodwill. That way I include myself and others who are left in out the cold outside houses full of shiny lights. 

It’s just a feeling and doesn’t describe the whole of me. Christmas things I like. Parties, Gavin and Stacy Christmas special, roast dinners, chocolate, secret santa, The Pogues, Dickens Christmas Carol and even Love Actually to name but a few.

I have some anxieties as always as I come to post this blog – that some people will see it as over indulgent. Why did you have to say this? Just move on. I say to those voices in my head that this is what I do to move on. Wishing you all a time of love and hope and many shades of grey.