I am not a fan of Christmas. Admittedly, there are a few good things about it: the pretty lights, a general spirit of giving, and peppermint lattes. As for the rest of it, I could just soon as do without, especially the one thing that makes Christmas, well, Christmas. That one thing is not holiday cheer, nor is it a sense of peace on Earth and good will towards mankind. It’s certainly not the birth of Christ, though that factors into things.
What Christmas means to me can be summed up in one word: GUILT.
The ancient Greeks had a concept called hubris. When a human got too full of herself, such as Icarus inventing mechanical wings and flying too near the sun or Arachne, spinning gorgeous fabrics and not crediting Athena, her admittedly-jealous God struck her down, sending the proudling’s human progeny down in a chrysalis of flame or turning the boastful weaver into a spider.
You know you've got #firstworldproblems when you have the luxury of complaining about the choices available at restaurants. I get it. I didn't wake up in Syria today. My life is wonderful and I take none of my privileges for granted.
I understand misanthropy. True confession -- I have a complete set of serial killer trading cards, collected at the ripe old age of nineteen. I made tasteless jokes about Team Ebola during the pandemic scare, albeit in my private Facebook groups. I often root for the monsters in slasher films.
There is no love lost between me and the human race. I get it. Still, I try to keep my misanthropy well in check because in brief, I am not a fool.
I have a thousand reasons why I chose not to be a mother and hating children is not one of them. One of the biggies is the profound dysfunction with which our culture views mothers. On one hand, motherhood is deified not only by Christian legacy but by secular folk at large -- we are constantly bombarded by images of idealized motherhood in stories, television, and magazines. One of my earliest memories is having a lot of baby dolls thrust in my general direction. Even at age four, I was creeped out by the idea of being groomed to pretend I was nursing my own infant with a bottle.