As I look back on the setting sun of my childhood as the moon of adulthood continues to rise, there is one part of my preadolescent years that I yearn for more than others: the Christmas season.
Whenever I hear the sweet sound of a Frank Sinatra holiday song, I am suddenly transported back to the living room of my childhood home. As soon as I hear young Justin Bieber's voice on the radio, I am immediately taken to the days of singing my heart out to "Mistletoe" with my friends.
I find myself dreaming of the days of searching through physical catalogs and circling all the things I want to add to my Christmas list, getting fake letters from Santa (obviously written by my parents) and waiting up all night, trying to catch reindeer on the roof.
I want nothing more than to be sitting in an elementary school classroom in Christmas pajamas, watching the "Polar Express" and sipping hot chocolate, getting ready to go home for winter break.
The most memorable Christmas of my life was when my late grandmother gifted me a bike. I remember opening the wonderful gift and seeing the beautiful, sparkly pink and purple colors. The most important part of this bike was that it had no training wheels. I remember her loving voice telling me how it was time for me to learn to ride a real bike.
I couldn't wait to try and ride it. I forced my dad outside to help me, even though it was freezing cold and there was so much snow outside. I'll never forget the look on my grandma's face as she watched me take my first ride down the snowy sidewalk. It was the best Christmas of all time.
Now the things I get for Christmas are usually socks and practical items that I need as an adult, when all I really want, deep down in my heart, is a doll or a princess dress.
When I reminisce on the ghosts of my past Christmases, there's usually only one thought I have: I wish I was still a little kid. All I find myself doing is worrying about finals, the news and having enough money to get everyone I love a Christmas gift — sadly, I am nothing more than a broke college student.
Getting older is hard, and one of the hardest parts is that life doesn't seem as magical as it used to. Colors aren't as bright: It's difficult to see the enchantments that the world offers and everything about the holiday season is now commercialized. I feel the loss of amazement and innocence.
The magical ambiance I remember from my childhood doesn't seem anywhere to be found. It's become a couple months of mindless shopping or trying to have the trendiest decorations, and it shows how profit-oriented things have become.
This kind of nostalgia creates unrealistic expectations of a past reality that we will never be able to return to. It breeds dissatisfaction. I feel like I'll never be able to enjoy things like I used to.
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The holiday season can be hard for a lot of people. Seasonal depression is a real thing, and I often feel the weight of its effects. Growing up is not easy, and Christmas just isn't what it used to be.
These nostalgic feelings surrounding the holidays make it difficult to live in the present and enjoy the moment at hand because all I want is to be a little kid again, who doesn't have a worry or care in the world. I can't seem to find my youthful, holiday spirit.
There is a sense of yearning for the whimsical days of my past to return to me. The feelings of nostalgia are killing my holiday spirit.
When I take a look at these nostalgic feelings and how they prevent me from creating more memories with those that I love, it makes me realize that it's important to look at the world with childlike wonder and find magic, even in the things that might not seem as whimsical as they used to.
Edited by Andrew Dirst, Sophia Ramirez and Natalia Jarrett.
Reach the reporter at tjsoren2@asu.edu and follow @teannaJsorensen on X.
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Teanna is a freshman studying journalism and mass communication. This is her first semester with The State Press. She has also worked at Utah Bride and Groom Magazine and as a National Youth Correspondent for the Washington Journalism and Media Conference.
