The trouble with Christmas is not the commercial underpinnings or the trappings of food and wine that see us creeping back to the scales in shame. The trouble with Christmas is how it perpetuates the myth of Perfect.
Christmas gives perfect stereotypes an unfair spotlight
I love Christmas movies but I hate the stereotypes they portray. A career girl being visited by ghosts of Christmas past to learn that family is the most important thing. Childhood sweethearts being reunited. Even the most loved and abhorred 'Christmas' movie Love Actually has very little to do with Christmas and everything to do with tragic romance gone wrong. Christmas is not about romance, nor are the stereotypes realistic.
Christmas creates an expectation for 'perfect' moments
From family dinners to carol services, these perfect moments come with their own set of expectations too—perfect food, perfect decorations, perfect happiness. This shallow view of happiness is ill-informed and unrealistic.
The nuance of emotion that is layered into a truly happy moment will touch the spectrum of joy, sorrow and everything in between. Therefore the kind of happiness we see depicted or try to create is largely an inaccurate and unachievable kind of emotional experience.
Of course, the expectation or desire for creating something 'perfect' is largely only something that hinders those who have not found peace with defining their own sense of perfect.
The biggest problem with the Perfect Christmas myth is the annual challenge it poses to those who are still wrestling with their own imperfection, or still seeking the ability to find perfection in the imperfect.
What's the perfect Christmas?
It starts with acceptance that we have the opportunity to participate and create new traditions and meaningful moments by acknowledging and communicating our needs and hopes thoughtfully with one another.
Not inspiring enough?
A perfect Christmas is one where everybody comes openly to a shared experience and each person is actively involved in creating a celebration that expresses shared meaning.
So where does stress, anger, frustration, emotional outburst and tension come from at Christmas?
It comes from trying to meet unspoken expectations, often relying heavily on others to do, say, make and be what we hope for. This tension of hope and expectation can squeeze our emotional and mental capacity beyond breaking point.
You may not have experienced this but for increasing numbers of people who come from divorced or blended families, who have suffered abuse or trauma in family relationships this is an unspoken norm at Christmastime. It can simply be overwhelming for those who are lonely at other times of the year, to experience the pronounced focus on close relationships and family during this season.
At the most basic healthy level, balancing the needs and desires of multiple family units is challenging. Making decisions about which grandparents get to see the grandkids on Christmas Day and when can be tough. But if a single person in that family has a deep emotional need to feel validated during that time family dynamics can spin out in instant complication.
Most tension and emotional escalation comes from a core human need—trying to get what we want, to get our needs or expectations met.
Human beings are creatures of habit, therefore choosing alternative ways of being—particularly in family units where the oldest ingrained behaviours usually begin—requires discipline and self-control.
When we fear that others will not meet our expectations or the ghosts of Christmas past raise their voices in our heads: we have a choice.
We choose numbness.
We intentionally pull back our emotional investment so as to navigate complex situations with the least amount of stress and emotional impact.
We relent to the power of old behaviours.
There is a strange comfort and security in patterns we are at least familiar. We play our parts in arguments that we have every Christmas. We wrestle with the same feelings of disappointment over unmet expectations. The most dangerous phrase is 'I was secretly hoping for.' An unvoiced hope is dangerous.
We reset our expectations and apply tactics to resist old behaviours.
This is the hardest choice, because it requires a certain commitment to your personal emotional stores. It requires doing some internal work to rationalise what the unmet expectations and unbearable feelings around those relationships are. This requires a bunch of work, but for good reward.
- Identify the insecurities and vulnerabilities that feel particularly present this time of year.
- Pinpoint any obligations you feel or where you are striving to meet the expectations of others. Are they really reasonable?
- Rebalance expectations or obligations—what can you actually do, what do you need to do, what do you want to do?
- Deconstruct your insecurities—what can you do to build your esteem? You'll feel the benefits as soon as you start.
- Identify your own expectations and hopes for the Christmas season—are you hoping for particular feelings or certain shared experiences? It needs to be a little more specific than 'I just want everyone to be happy'. Ask yourself the question 'what will that look like or sound like?' The answer to that question is probably closer to what you really want.
- Be realistic about how much of your circumstance you can control or influence. You can make choices to control more or less, but each choice has a consequence. Start with being realistic about what is inside and outside your control.
- Acknowledge that no one person is likely to have all of their hopes and expectations met. Accept that you might compromise some of your own hopes in order that others might also experience fulfilment. It's highly likely many hopes will be shared.
- Peacefully communicate your true hopes, desires and expectations to other people in your family. Invite them to do the same.
- If possible, find other family members who are willing to talk about new strategies and tactics for meeting some of these hopes.
Good luck. The bonus is that using this strategy of good, simple communication will spill over benefits into many other parts of your life.
Tash McGill wants to change the world by helping people to think differently. Sometimes described as courageous by her friends, she frequently says aloud what no-one else is brave or stupid enough to say. She also finds writing third-person biographies uncomfortable.
Tash McGill's previous articles may be viewed at www.pressserviceinternational.org/tash-mcgill.html