| Christmas has never really landed with me, and I’ve spent a long time wondering why — especially when it seems to come so naturally to other people. Over the years, I’ve realised it isn’t one single reason, but a layering of experiences that quietly stripped it of any real appeal. Growing up, Christmas was never fully mine. My mum leaned into it, my dad didn’t, and his way of doing things generally set the tone. We followed the German tradition of celebrating on the 24th, which in itself isn’t a problem at all — but when one person’s preference dominates, something that’s meant to feel shared can end up feeling prescribed. Christmas became something that happened around me rather than something I felt part of. Then, as a young adult, I spent years working in the catering industry. That changes you. When festive periods are your busiest, longest, and most stressful shifts, the shine wears off very quickly. You stop associating Christmas with rest or connection and start associating it with pressure, deadlines, and emotional labour. You’re responsible for creating the magic for everyone else, regardless of how tired or disconnected you feel. Eventually, other people’s joy just feels like another task to complete. After catering came retail, and later, more service-based work, and the pattern never really changed. When your working life revolves around making other people happy — smoothing their experience, managing their expectations, staying upbeat on demand — festive seasons lose any personal meaning. They become performance periods. Output. Something you deliver, not something you receive. And then there’s the part that’s impossible to ignore now: the cost. The sheer expense of Christmas has become staggering. It’s not just presents, it’s the expectation of volume, spectacle, and comparison. For families, especially those with children, it feels less like a celebration and more like an annual financial stress test. Parents aren’t just buying gifts; they’re buying relief from guilt, fear of disappointment, and the worry that their children will feel left out. That’s a heavy burden to place on people every single year. What gets me is the contradiction. Christmas is supposed to be about warmth, togetherness, and care — yet the pressure, debt, and exhaustion it creates often undermine those very things. Stress becomes normalised, overspending becomes expected, and opting out is quietly judged. A lot of what makes Christmas stressful isn’t inherent at all — it’s constructed, marketed, and maintained because it’s profitable. I don’t think disliking Christmas makes someone cold or joyless. In my case, it feels more like clarity. I value things that are genuine, quiet, chosen — not scripted or compulsory. I’m tired of manufactured happiness and forced cheer, tired of systems that drain people while telling them they should be grateful for the experience. So no, I’m not especially Christmassy. I never really have been. And after years of seeing behind the curtain — working the shifts, absorbing the stress, watching the financial strain it places on others — I’m okay with that. For me, winter is just winter. A time to slow down if you can, to be honest about what you need, and to step away from things that no longer serve you. That feels like enough. |
Behind the Tinsel
Earthly Comforts 
The original celebrants of Yule had it right.
LikeLike