This season was a very hard one growing up. My mother hated it, and it brought out her worst. There were two years where the holiday was cancelled because we woke up too early and went into our parents' room excited to wish them happy holiday.

I can't even say the name of the holiday, we don't call it that in our house. I have tried my best not to hate this holiday, because it doesn't seem rational and I don't want to be like her. ...But this holiday makes me feel very uncomfortable which is a huge step forward from how it made me feel for many years.

There are so many things we do differently as a family. We call it winter holiday. We don't lie at all, not even the magical lies. I am constantly battling with myself over how to make things special, but also how to be a good person. We don't decorate with anything remotely religious. We have an indoor potted cypress tree that I light up, but there is no star atop the tree, no gold, no angels, no deceit. I have trouble doing anything that feels remotely ritualistic, and I just try to focus on celebrating the long winter. We decorate with reindeer, moose, snowflakes, cookie cutters, and cinnamon sticks.

We had our son put his boots outside for Nikolaustag, we told him only that in the morning there may be gifts inside because it's a special day. We didn't threaten him with coal, or tell him anything about a saint who gives gifts. I try so hard to balance merriment with building an honest relationship. Sometimes I feel that I am selling my son short, that he is missing out somehow. When his school asks what we will be doing for the holiday, my heart sinks. I replied with, "Well, we don't really celebrate that."

We do the same for spring holiday. We give spring themed gifts, enjoy nature, and celebrate life and rebirth in that way. In autumn we celebrate the dormancy and the coming darkness. In summer... well... we're probably at the beach.

I feel so much guilt this time of year. All of my son's gifts will be unwrapped, and simply placed into a burlap sack that's tied up with a cord, as it always is. I can't be wasteful or frivolous. We will tell them they're from Mama and Papa. We'll make spiced Swedish cookies together, as I struggle to find a winter playlist that I don't find triggering, we'll probably stick to jazz music to play it safe, and we'll all sip warm alcohol free drinks. We will completely ignore some traditions, advents, feasts, etc, as I'm constantly arguing inside myself about how to do the right thing.

I know many of us struggle this time of year. If you're struggling too, my heart goes out to you. The time before I created this family were extremely difficult for me in a very different way. I feel bad for complaining about these struggles knowing how hard it can be. ...But I guess I just want to know that I am not alone in my perfectionism, and my absolute disdain for anything ritualistic, religious, or dishonest, and that I am not the only person who is constantly in a battle with themself weighing morals against each other.