The gift of gifting

It’s the most wonderful time of the year. For people who are good at selling you things. Things you may or may not need, but things you’re definitely going to buy, because these things are magic.

They sit on shelves where they are regular objects, say, cushion covers. But then you buy one, ensconce it in decorative packaging, maybe go wild and write a tag, and lo, it is transformed into something called a Christmas present. You have caused the humble cushion cover to transcend its utilitarian purpose here on earth. Now – now – now it is an expression of friendship or love or Secret Santa, now you hope it will be smiled upon and bring joy.

And them to whom it is given, they too have hopes. They’re really hoping you’re not giving them a gift that will take up valuable real estate at the back of the cupboard.

Here we are again at the annual race against the clock to Christmas Eve, otherwise known as the last day to get all the presents. It all goes by in a terrible woosh. I blame days. You know how days are. Days do their thing, not thinking even a little about you.

I love giving presents. Love it. Can’t get enough of it.

Just one problem. I hate shopping. I have vile, loathsome exes I would take back rather than go shopping. Every Christmas, for as long as I can remember, I find myself in the same situation, with minor tweaks in the setting: me, crumpled like a tissue you sneezed in twice, weeping, and feeling utterly defeated and…and…drowning.

Once, to my hellish shame, mall security had to tell me I was not allowed to sit on the floor. Sobbing. Yes, even though I was surrounded by a fortress of shopping bags, and it was clear I was very much a paying visitor.

But I do, I really do, love giving gifts. And I might be better at it if it didn’t come with the anxiety and second-guessing and all the other baggage we might have wrapped up in it. Because I truly do think there’s something magical about it.

It’s in the fanciest thing and the smallest thing or the silliest thing or the most sentimental thing. See, all this time, I think we’ve been sold a lie. The gift is not in the giving, but in the sharing. And what happens when you give a gift is wonderful moment of sharing.

Some people are terrible at giving. Maybe they are selfish or mean or know they have awful taste in cushions. Or maybe they are shy, or awkward. Hard to know, but if you do know the difference, I hope you have the gift of kindness for the latter group.

Some people are terrible at receiving gifts. Maybe because they have no broughtupsy or because they think all wrapped packages contain bombs. Or maybe they didn’t have much experience with them when they were young, or maybe they are shy, or awkward.

Problem givers and recipients aside (whole other story), I do believe in the magic. I do. I do. I believed it when my niece gave me a blue papier-mâché bunny 20 years ago. I can see it from where I’m sitting now. It’s barely got a nick on it.

Children can be weird little guys, but sometimes they are made of magic. This bunny came to me on a dark day of my soul and all I could think was: “It’s ok. It’s ok. Somehow.” I was chosen. I was the keeper of the bunny. I was ok.

Good gifting is special like that. I once got a piece of bark shaped like an alligator and I also cherished it. Because it too was given with so much love, and with the idea that I would understand (which I did) and would see it as beautiful (which I did).

There can be a moment, if you’re very lucky, when it’s hard to tell the difference between who got the present and gave it, because both people are just emanating joy. It gives me no pleasure to use the word “emanating,” but it is the right word.

It happens when you know – or care to know – someone well enough to choose something that lets them know you see them, and you want to let them know that. And when the other person gets it, they look at you and all you can see is how much they appreciate that moment of being seen.

Go forth and do the giving, and if you get something you don’t like, don’t say, “Eew,” or “Blick.”

Remember to talk to your doctor or therapist if you want to know more about what you read here. In many cases, there’s no single solution or diagnosis to a mental health concern. Many people suffer from more than one condition.