It’s that time of year when stores put the Christmas items out WAY too early, you start hearing Christmas music and I start to panic about “THE CHRISTMAS LETTER.”

Now, you may wonder, why would I panic about a letter, but see, “THE CHRISTMAS LETTER” has been a factor in my life for 43 years.  It is not my letter, but my parent’s letter, and every year, right before Thanksgiving, I receive a call from my parents saying they need my submission for “THE CHRISTMAS LETTER.”

Why you might ask, is it in quotes and caps?  Because it is this THING – this all important letter which my parents send to their friends, relatives and former business associates.  From the time we were little, we were instructed to always be polite, put other’s needs first, NEVER share anything negative – certainly not family secrets.  We were the perfect family.

For a long time, I bought into that thinking.  I was the cursed “good” girl always trying to please everyone else around me.  That behavior got me into trouble more than once.  I’ve said the most ridiculous things to people in my attempt to be perfect and a “good” girl.  Heck, even now my Mom will  say, “now that’s a good girl,” when I do something that she deems is good.  Thankfully, I’m no longer looking for that approval.

So a good girl’s submission to “THE CHRISTMAS LETTER” must be all about her perfect life, her perfect family, her successful career.  Awards, accolades and promotions with titles are a must: broken hearts, bad career decisions, and fat must not be mentioned.

I have never been driven by titles or winning, for that matter.  When I played tennis in high school, I was most satisfied with myself when I played my absolute best, even if it meant losing.  This used to make my coach insane.  “You need to have the drive to win!  Why are you so chatty and nice to your opponent, saying ‘nice shot’ if she had a good shot?”  It’s just the way I’ve always been.  I want to do my best and if a reward follows great, but I’m not in it for the reward.  I just feel happiest when I work my hardest, even if it doesn’t mean I get an “A” or win or have the highest score.  It’s just who I am.

I’ve had success in my life, and the years that big or interesting things happen to me, “THE CHRISTMAS LETTER” is a breeze. But most years, it makes me insane.  For instance, the Thanksgiving after 9/11, I was living in NYC and had recently broken up with a long time boyfriend.  I was so very grateful that all of my family and friends survived the WTC and Pentagon attacks, and I was relieved that I was no longer in an unsuitable relationship.  I was also terrified of subsequent terrorist attacks and stopped riding the subway for awhile.  There was still such sadness, mixed with kindness all around NYC, but I couldn’t think about a suitable way to convey this to my parents for the LETTER.  When I said as much, I was told to come up with something – hadn’t something happened in my job?  Hadn’t I done something interesting to tell other people?  Didn’t I travel some place fun?

I don’t mean to make my parents sound like monsters.  I’ve come to realize that some folks look for validation from the outside, and I don’t.  I never have.  My parents letter is their version of Facebook, because let’s face it, doesn’t everyone else’s life look perfect on Facebook?   Maybe we should start a “real” movement.  One where we actually show what we look like after we’ve cried or when we’ve first woken up.  I should do that because my hair alone will make people laugh and laughter is good.  Maybe I’ll do that tomorrow.

Ahh, but I’m off track.  Every day there are things for me to be grateful for, and while I can’t always convey that in a paragraph for my parent’s Christmas letter, perhaps I can try.

I’m not sure what my submission will be this year.  There is so much to be thankful for and there is so  much that has been difficult about this year.

 I’m thankful for my beautiful and healthy boys who bring such joy into my life and I’m thankful for my husband.  I’m thankful that on the days when my boys are sick and fighting, I manage to make it through the day, one breath at the time.  I’m thankful for my friends who have held me up while I’ve cried and I’m grateful to be there for others while they are working through their issues.  I’m thankful for our home and our winter river view. I love the beautiful trees and the chirping birds who accompany me on my morning run as the sun comes up.  It IS a beautiful life, even with all the hard stuff, it is.  Maybe that’s what I’ll say and they can edit it as they see fit.