As the first child-grandchild-niece, Christmas was magical. There are pictures of me alone in front of the tree surrounded by gifts well into childhood. A photo of me at age 10 conveys my glee at having received my first real piece of jewelry, a gold ring. I was sure to have the biggest pile of gifts until I reached adulthood, when younger cousins started experiencing the splendid spoils of spoiling.

As an adult, when I learned the joy of giving gifts, it was a big shock to discover that Christmas joy tends to require credit cards. My family seemed to pull perfect gifts from thin air, never giving me a clue that not only did these gifts mean a chunk of their budget, but often, the wish-list continued far beyond the cash. I can’t help but wonder how my parents came up with money for Christmas, and later, as a single-income shopper myself, I considered what my auntie’s credit card bills must have looked like at the end of the year.

My first year of college, I was able to give everyone a small gift. I remember the pride I had in presenting my gifts to the adults whose rank I was joining. Since then, the gift giving has ranged from “nothing but a smile” to a Kitchen Aid mixer for mom. My husband and I decided one year to donate $500 to the local food bank in honor of our family and friends, giving something to those who had much less. The amount actually given: nada.

Throughout the years, my gift list has waxed and waned, depending not so much on how much I love someone but the distance to my credit limit.

The perfect gift
Last year, I was obsessed with giving the “perfect” gift to each of my friends and family. I had just separated from my husband, and turning my anxiety toward gift giving relieved some of the pressure of standing up straight on days when I had no strength. My family and friends gave me that strength, kept me moving forward, and I felt that showing my appreciation at Christmastime demanded perfection. (Continued on next page.)