Oh Stress...Thy Name is Holiday Hustle and Bustle

I'm trying to keep it all together. I really am. I have given myself all the little pep talks about enjoying the holidays, and remembering the reason for the season. I have cut things like baking and extravagant holiday entertaining out of the to do list, and I turned my back on my nemesis - that blasted Christmas letter that I am always vying to write. I even went as far as to buy fabulous Christmas mugs to promote the drinking of hot chocolate and resting by the warm glow of the Christmas tree. But seriously people...it's like I just can't help myself. I am stressed out. I am inflicted by Christmas stress. The holiday hustle and bustle is reeking havoc on my quest for silent nights and a mental state of comfort and joy.

There is so much to think about. The cards. What to write in the cards. Who to send cards to. To add a photo or not to add a photo. And then more thoughts about what to write in the cards. Sigh. And then there are the thoughts on the church Christmas banquet. How did I get in charge of all the decorations? And will those blasted centerpieces look as unimpressive as I am afraid that they will? And how will our trio sound? And will my shoes work? They are old. They are not a great fashion statement. And did I buy the right size of pantyhose? Yes..these are the thoughts that churn around in my brain. Does this sound like sitting-by-the-tree-sipping-hot-chocolate-with-my-great-new-mugs sort of relaxing thoughts? No. I didn't think so.

This is not how Christmas is supposed to be. And the craziest part is, it's all very self inflicted. Take for example the aforementioned Christmas banquet decorating thing - I said that I didn't want to do it this year. I said that if they couldn't find anyone else I would do it - but it would be VERY simple, and VERY low key. So this afternoon while we were decorating I was getting all uptight because it was TOO simple and TOO low key. It's like the burning desire-for-things-simple side of me was fighting with the high-falootin'-perfectionist side of me, and the perfectionist was winning. The perfectionist always wins. It's an obsession and it always seems to win. But does it REALLY win? Since when does stressed out feel like winning? Since when does the angst of getting things perfect feel like a victory? No I think that it just makes me feel all around loser-ish. Why is it that even though I cut things out of my to do list, deep inside I still have the inner angst of what I am not doing? When will I ever really just be able to chill out and just simplify? And I mean really simplify. Not to just say it, but continue on with the inner mental berating that follows me around. I mean simplify and feel at peace about it.

This is such a battle. So much of me wants the perfect little life. I look at a Martha Stewart Christmas, and I want that in my home. I want the real floral centerpieces and the perfectly browned turkey to be served with perfectly matching linen napkins, beautifully flickering dripless candles, and a trail of pine greens cascading down my carved wooden staircase banister. But the thing is - I don't have a carved wooden banister. I don't have a clue how to make a turkey, much less brown it perfectly and in all reality, most of my friends would much rather hang out around a pizza and a good game of Scattegories than a formal dinner. And frankly - so would I. What I think that I want doesn't really seem to fit into my lifestyle - or even who I am. Maybe I just don't know who I am. Wow - I think you are all witnessing a real life identity crisis.

Well, the perfectionist in me would like to wrap all this up nicely with a glittery bow, and tell you how I have found victory in my angst, and how I have grown in this area of my life, but truthfully - I am at a loss. I don't know how to break the perfectionist cycle. And I don't know if I want it completely broken, or just partially broken. But what I do know is that my real floral centerpiece looks very Martha-ish, and amazing, and is giving me daily joy. So in all things there is joy and sorrow. There is some angst in the perfectionism, and there is some joy in it. I just can't figure out if the end result of joy is worth the angst it takes to get me there. But that is something to ponder on another day. For now, I am going to sit by my perfectly decorated tree and try to relax with my new wintry mugs filled with hot chocolate, steaming just like they would in a Martha Stewart magazine. And for now, that is O.K.