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The holiday season is officially upon me. And I'm full of a myriad of complex emotions. I'm sentimental, I'm wistful. I'm regretful, I'm nostalgic. I'm elated, I'm sad. I'm filled with anticipation and disappointment. And so many other unnameable feelings. 

I grew up with a mother who fell into a deep depression nearly every holiday season. And to further complicate matters, I was born just before Christmas, brought home on the 24th of December. So from the very beginning my life was confusing. If I was excited about the holidays, I was being selfish. If I was upset about unwrapping Christmas paper from my birthday/Christmas presents under the tree, I was an ungrateful brat. Either way, I was a drama queen. Either way, I was left feeling hollow and small.

And so I became apathetic. I detached. I learned to metaphorically scrunch my eyes shut, hold my breath, and will the season to fly by quickly and as painlessly as possible. 
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I'm sitting in my living room. Alone. Thanksgiving has come and gone. I spent it alone. My family scattered about. My husband on an annual trip which always begins the day before. And I want to be okay with it. I really do. I want to say I don't care, holidays mean nothing to me, all the celebrations I've missed haven't taken a toll on my soul. 

I want to. But I can't. 

With each passing year, I grow more regretful. With each tree-less Christmas, I feel lonelier and less connected. And I wonder how I can reconcile my complicated history with holidays with my need to find renewed meaning and joy with the world at this time of year. 

But here's the thing: There are no holiday coaches. No self-help gurus or motivational books on the subject. I googled it; my iPad just laughed at me. 

I realize that this holiday thing...it's just a metaphor. A microcosm. My relationship with arbitrary days set aside for maximum joy and merriment is just a reflection of my relationship with regular days. And weeks and months and years. 

I am a survivor. I was groomed and conditioned to survive. To get through. To withstand.  I had to. It served me. And honestly, it often still does. But it also holds such profound emptiness. 

I honestly don't know how to engineer enjoyment. And so when I do have a good day, it's actually in spite of everything I do, not because of it. 
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I cannot get back all of the holidays - all of the days! - that I missed by slipping out of myself and into my survival armor. Lamenting them is useless. They're gone. But I can make different choices. Moving forward. Or, more specifically, not moving...just being and savoring and enjoying what I have. In the moment. 

Tomorrow I'm going to do just one thing to celebrate the season. Just one. And I will do just one thing the next day. And the day after that. My hope is that I will engineer happiness this year. Step by step, one small move at a time. My hope is that this Christmas, I will achieve enjoyment.