Okay, I am in a pickle. A giant pickle garnished with the dill of confusion and dripping with the vinegar of dread. I need you guys. I want everyone to play amateur advice columnist here, because the last straw has already crippled the camel, and I am standing over its head with a sharp-edged shovel.

Ahem.

According to television, advertising, and store displays, Christmas is coming. For various reasons, I find this the least wonderful time of the year. Like many of us, I had the evil holiday-ruining stepfather from five years old on up, and a yearly glut of random presents from my middle class/rich relatives who said “I love you” with a bunch of tacky shit you don’t want. I am not religious, and I just don’t care to celebrate Christmas as an adult. I feel this way about Christmas: meh.

I spent the first Christmas after I left home totally solo, in an ecstatic state of godless communism. My cuckoo roommate was visiting her family. It was me, the cat, and my paints and canvas. I was blissfully happy and obligation-free that year. My boyfriend (the future Mr. Husband) invited me to his parents’ Christmas Eve celebration and I got to say “No, thanks.”

Fast-forward to now: I have been married for almost eight years and am approaching my seventh Christmas with Mr. Husband’s family, and I am already dreading it. Mr. Husband’s family likes Christmas, especially my father-in-law, and they like to drag it out until I want to throw myself on a broom handle. There are seven adults and two little kids that make up our core “Christmas morning” family. Mr. Husband’s family likes to open one present at a time. Present opening has taken 4-plus hours in the past, lasting until we were all quite insensible. I get this feeling after a couple of hours like I’m going to have a panic attack…any…second….

Finally, in recent years, Mr. Husband’s sister Auntie Jaguar and his grandmother have said, “Hey, let’s cut it down to one present apiece.” We are all adults and just want to spend time together, not go all capitalism krazy. My father-in-law agreed, but broke the agreement by inundating us with presents anyway.

I don’t know what Auntie Jaguar does after Christmas, but I spend at least two weeks getting rid of 99% of the useless crap they give me. I would be more forgiving of these quirks if it seemed like time and care went into the selection process, but…my mother- and father-in-law didn’t even wrap our presents last year; they just gave us giant plastic “gift bags” (garbage-sized bags, appropriately, but the kind that are meant for tot bikes or oversized stuffed animals) with all of the crap dumped into it for each of us. They forget presents in random closets, and we will receive Christmas presents in July with an, “Oh, hey, we forgot to give this to you last year.”

This year, Mr. Husband tried to get everyone to agree to make one thoughtful present for everyone, so it would mean more. Mr. Father-In-Law sent out an email last week saying that it wasn’t going to work, because Auntie Jaguar and Grandma balked at this idea. I responded by emailing the idea of just spending time together, and focusing the present deluge on my and Auntie Jaguar’s little girl. This was also rejected, and the response from Mr. Father-In-Law was, “I think everyone should have to think about getting a present for everyone else.”

We are now in the process of negotiating a drawing and a white elephant exchange, but I think that will be shot down.

I must disclose that I have not told any other family member about how much I dislike Christmas, because I don’t want to openly be a wet blanket and ruin it for other people. I don’t really want it to be all about me…I just want to be happy in the process. Also, I feel like it is not totally my place to bring the giant Christmas smackdown, since they were perfectly happy til I came along. For the past four years I have been considering nicking off somewhere and spending Christmas by myself, like my first one when I was 18. I have discussed this idea with Mr. Husband and he said he would be embarrassed if I wasn’t there. I tried talking Mr. Husband into taking a trip with me out-of-town so we could have a tiny Christmas, but he wants to see Auntie Jaguar.

So, Dear Reader. Has anyone else conquered a similar situation? What is the solution to this sticky wicket? Do I steel myself for twenty more years of this unsane Hell on Earth? Do I go hide in a B&B in Sequim for three days? I have also considered doing something altruistic on Christmas, like volunteering somewhere for the day, which wouldn�t really be altruistic because I’d be doing it to get away. I have thought about visiting someone, but I really have no one to visit. My grandparents are too crazy to visit. I could tell Mr. Husband’s family I was spending Christmas with my mother, but I don’t think they’d believe that one.

If you are going to respond, and I wish you would, please email me. I am being very selfish and trying to avoid me-tooism in my comments. I will post all replies later this week, anonymously if you wish, because maybe they will help someone else.

I know I sound cranky and ungrateful here; if you have concerns about this, please refer to the giant title at the top of the page.