Editorial Note: The following is reprinted with permission from Amber Schultz’s blog. It was originally published on December 25, 2022.
By Amber Schultz
It’s the most wonderful time of the year.
At least that is what we are told.
I remember very few Christmases. Ones I remember are not the best times. It wasn’t lack of gifts, because from a young age we were taught to not attach ourselves to things. This was a forced lesson because of our sudden moves from place to place. Rarely were things kept, it’s amazing we still have family photos.
My Dad loves Christmas. Loves it. Always wanted to make a big deal out of it. It was his time to spend everything he had on gifts. Or, some years, take our (the kids’) money to buy the gifts and never pay it back.
Christmas became bittersweet.
The sweet came from the bustling excitement around the holiday. Every and everyone changed. Food might be scarce, but there were church plays and things to get lost in.
As an adult, I have found that many people with difficult and traumatic childhoods struggle around the holidays. I always felt weird or alone in feeling sad or disconnected, but finding this truth gave me solidarity and validated my emotions.
Trauma is a tricky thing. Because the abuse doesn’t happen every second, there are happy times. These happy times are what we cling to. We long for them to return and we do everything we can to make sure it stays.
Of course, in an abuse cycle, it is not how it works. There is always happiness (love bombing) and then the abuse afterwards — and then repeat that for days, months, years on end.
Christmas was that happy time for me.
Now, as a parent, I strive to create an environment as calm and safe as possible. I have MANY issues I am working through, and they bleed through a lot of times. But, I can say I have broken many, many generational curses. I see it in our kids.
Christmas to them will mean something in their memories than it does in mine. My sadness associated with this holiday ends with me. My children do not have to bear the burden I do, and this is something that I painstakingly work towards on a daily basis.
So even now, in my disconnected moments of Christmas, I can look at them and feel the joy they feel. They will never know a day like my childhood. Ever. They will not know what it is like to walk on eggshells around a parent.
They will not ever struggle with bearing the weight of parenting a parent. They will not ever have to know superficial joy in their family unit. Because we are honest and raw and vulnerable with one another.
They see my struggle, and I am transparent with them. I fight these battles so they do not have to.
They already exhibit so much more joy and strength than I have ever felt. I am incredibly proud of the humans they are becoming.
So despite my Christmas blues, the gifts God gave me through our children are innumerable. Their presence has helped and healed me more than anyone could ever realize. They are my joy this holiday season.
The Vashti Initiative 