I hate Christmas. I hate everything about it, especially the pressure to tap your bank account out to try to convince people that you love them by how financially wrecked you have become. And my mother is a Christmas person, which is why we don’t see eye-to-eye. Well that, and the whole religion thing.
I hate the time pressure, the pressure to be all happy, the pressure to be original, the pressure to spend spend spend. I hate feeling obligated and hate that others feel obligated on my behalf, because I really don’t want anything. I love my friends and family and would rather see them at another time–any time I see people I love, it’s a festival. I don’t need a calendar date.
I’m sad. I love my mother. And I just don’t love Christmas.
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I’ve been finding it harder and harder to find the Christmas spirit with each passing year. Being married to someone who works retail doesn’t help. And I can relate to the money thing. We’ve had some seriously lean months lately with the finances.
I have always hated Christmas. Working retail has pretty much killed what little enjoyment I had with that holiday.