Anyhoo, my obsession with Christmas didn't always used to be this bad. My first Christmas away from home when I was 20 included a threadbare tree with ornaments I purchased at Walmart. (My mom tried unsuccessfully to hide her disdain considering she uses top of the line Christmas decorations handmade from Germany that she inherited from my grandmother.) The year after was my first Christmas in Krautland, and my first completely alone. I decorated a potted plant (and a fake one, at that). It was sad.
For my first Christmas with my ex and my second abroad, I was determined to nest (as most housewives seem to do), and decided that I was going to do a proper Christmas with a proper Christmas tree, full of proper Christmas ornaments I purchased at the Weihnachtsmarkt in Stuttgart. Aside from my mom's taste in German ornaments, I also seemed to inherit her crappy mood while decorating the tree. By crappy mood, I mean get the fuck out of the way because she is gonna rip your head off while she hangs the garland. (There's a reason I forgo garland more often than not. Hanging lights is bad enough as it is.) The only thing I didn't inherit is her love for real trees. Actually, that's not true. I love real trees (particularly the scent), but there is no way I can keep a tree alive for eight weeks while I can barely keep my houseplants alive. Fake it is.
Believe it or not, though, my frustrations whilst decorating the tree and tree preferences weren't actually supposed to be featured in this blog post.
The thing is, I've spent the majority of the last five Christmases either completely alone or without family. It's a normal occasion that only one or two people (if anyone) see my Christmas tree, and that's saying something, since it goes up mid-November.
One of the reasons I'm so crazy about Christmas is that Christmas is my expatriate crutch.
People don't expect expatriates who don't fly home for Christmasto be well-adjusted.
People expect expatriates to be lonely at Christmas.
People expect lonely expatriates to drink a lot around Christmas.
People expect lonely expatriates to be homesick during the holiday season.
All of these things suit me just fine.
Don't get me wrong -- there is little better about Christmas in Germany than Glühwein at the Weihnachtsmarkt with the Mädels or browsing through the booths trying to find something interesting to send my parents back in Canada. The only thing that's better is setting up and taking down my tree in private (usually mid-November and on New Year's Eve, respectively).
Call me sappy, but my Christmas tree does a good job of telling some stories of the past nine years since I first started collecting ornaments. I have ornaments from my mom, my dad, my ex. Ornaments from when I was happy, when I was trying to make a home for myself for the first time, or when I was crushed. I turn on either Snowed In (don't judge -- it's a childhood thing) or the Christmas album I got from one of my best friends last year, open a bottle of wine, and for those hours when I'm either putting up or taking down the tree, I'm with family and I feel like it's finally okay to just miss the life I gave up.
I don't like Christmas because I believe in God or because I like consumerism. Actually, the second one is a lie. I like buying things, normally for myself. Around Christmas, however, I get my rocks off on buying things for people. Consumerism all the way.
I like Christmas because it represents a feeling that used to be so important to me as a child, youth and young adult that I don't have any more. So, for one month of the year (plus two weeks, if you count from the time the tree goes up), I can pretend that things are good, that I don't second-guess my choice to come here (twice) every day, and that the people most important to me aren't so fucking far away.
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