Every year, I dread Christmas. Maybe it all started when I worked retail and I knew it would be the season of angry customers and messes to endlessly clean. Perhaps it was when I realized that it’s just everything I despise about capitalism rolled into a sugar coated pill of cookies and wrapping paper. Maybe I was just always doomed to experience an episode of depression around this year. It is dark and cold, and there’s so much to do…

I don’t know what it was this year that made Christmas so especially depressing for me. I even tried hard to get into the “spirit.” I bought a silly sweater. Dressed up like an elf when Santa came to visit our library. Tried to listen to Christmas music. Put up more decorations than I normally do. Bought my daughter an advent calendar. None of it did anything for me.

On Christmas Eve, I sat in my basement and cried. I’d just read a letter that our claim was denied again and the insurance company wants up to pay the 15,000 dollar medical bills from my daughter’s mystery illness in September. It was just the last straw. I cried until I gave myself a headache, and then I wiped the tears away and got my kid’s Christmas presents ready for the next day.

I woke up on Christmas feeling exhausted. I didn’t even want to get out of bed. My kid came in and tried to get me up. I didn’t leave my room until an hour later. I watched her open her presents, remembering when she was little and how she used to open them with such delight. Now it’s just a reserved joy. She opens them slowly, and then pauses and inspects it. She smiles and says thank you and moves on to the next. The urgency and excitement is gone.

It wasn’t until I went to my husband’s family’s celebration that some of the clouds finally moved, and it was long after the presents were open and food was eaten. His mother had bought all the family’s plastic totes for storage and as she passed them up, the first child hopped in like a cat with a box. They all started climbing in. The bins turned into cars. One of them discovered they could flip it over on top of them and then move around like a little plastic tank. My daughter sat next to me watching and laughing. Then she climbed in and called her father over. He pushed her around like she was one of the little kids. Seeing them genuinely smiling and being silly finally let some sun back into my life.

These are the moments that bring true happiness. It’s not the THINGS. It’s not tradition. It’s the joy of seeing others happy. Often times, I think I need to change my mind or attitude, but I keep forgetting that I don’t always need to. Other’s emotions can brighten mine and I don’t have to do everything on my own.

I hope everyone enjoyed their holidays this year. And if you were sad for the majority, that’s okay, and you weren’t alone.