I Want To Believe In Santa Claus Again

I once believed in Santa Claus. There was a point in my life where I genuinely believed in the existence of a fat man with a beard who rode a sleigh full of reindeers and flew down chimneys to dispense gifts. I can’t recall the exact age when I stopped believing in him, stopped accepting things at face value, but I do know that it created a domino effect. All of a sudden, the boy who no longer believed in Santa Claus had stopped going to church. He became annoyed at hearing those stories from the Bible because they just seemed like science fiction/fantasy tales designed to scare you into choking down that pita and gulping the plum wine down on Communion. I never needed a reason to gulp down plum wine…

I once believed in Santa Claus but I don’t anymore. I don’t even believe in Christmas or giving gifts. The only thing I’ll hold on to is that plum wine, which goes to show you that the more things change, the more they stay the same. Same wine, completely different belief system. I guess what I’m interested in here is discovering how I could ever believe in something as ludicrous as Santa Claus? How was that ever something I held to be true? Furthermore, how can I get that boy back? How can I start believing in ludicrous fantasies again? I need a break from reality. Being a realist, as it turns out, is completely overrated.

Maybe this year I’ll believe in Santa Claus again. Maybe this year I’ll come to my parents with a Christmas list and ask them to send it to the North Pole. On second thought, maybe I shouldn’t. They might fear I’m having a psychotic break and send me to Bellevue. Do you see the difference though? At age seven, I’m applauded for sending a list of gifts to the North Pole, but at age 25, I’m sent away in handcuffs.

My parents had to tell me themselves that Santa Claus wasn’t real. I was getting to that age where I should’ve been able to connect the dots myself, should’ve seen that the whole thing was a lie, but I didn’t. It was willful ignorance, I suppose. Maybe I knew on some level that I had the rest of my life to believe in nothing so I might as well hold on to the fat man with a beard for as long as I could. After that, it would all be over for me. I wouldn’t believe in Jesus or boys or the job market or the healing powers of yoga. Nothing.

Life gives you a reason not to believe each and every day. You begin to question every word that comes out of people’s mouths. Everyone lies. The person you’re having sex with is lying to you about the way it feels when you S his D. The guy who does your dry cleaning is lying to you when he says that your clothes will be ready by 6:30. Your landlord is lying to you about asbestos. Your friend is lying to you about feeling sick. Your boss is lying to you about giving you a raise after six months. And now all you want to do is believe in Santa Claus. In retrospect, believing in him makes more sense than believing in anything else these days. All I want for Christmas is to believe in Santa Claus. Send that to the North Pole. TC mark

image – Mr. DoS

Ryan O'Connell

I'm a brat.

Trace the scars life has left you. It will remind you that at one point, you fought for something. You believed.

“You are the only person who gets to decide if you are happy or not—do not put your happiness into the hands of other people. Do not make it contingent on their acceptance of you or their feelings for you. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter if someone dislikes you or if someone doesn’t want to be with you. All that matters is that you are happy with the person you are becoming. All that matters is that you like yourself, that you are proud of what you are putting out into the world. You are in charge of your joy, of your worth. You get to be your own validation. Please don’t ever forget that.” — Bianca Sparacino

Excerpted from The Strength In Our Scars by Bianca Sparacino.

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  • Mashka

    I found out that Santa Claus wasn’t real via VH1’s Pop Up Video. True story. Was watching Mariah Carey’s “All I want for Christmas is You” video where she’s like galavanting around with Santa or whatever and the pop-ups were all just harmless little factoids until there was a warning pop up that came up and said like, children leave the room! or something ridic and 8 year old me was like “HA fuck that” and kept watching and the next pop up was “Santa isn’t real”. WHAT THA FUQ VH1 thanks a lot. 

    • guest

      so. evil.

  • Mashka

    I should mention though I was always kinda skeptical since Santa’s handwriting always looked exactly like my mom’s. C’mon people be creative

  • serena

    i really liked this.

  • http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1351650218 Kaity Wong

    You’re right. Being a realist is completely overrated.

  • http://twitter.com/mung_beans Mung Beans

    We never did Santa because SANTA = SATAN.  I feel like it set me up for failure when it comes to believing in stuff.  

  • Anonymous

    Sometimes you just have to believe the lie, not to get disappointed or to be ignorant, but because that’s what they want you to believe. So, if they’re hiding something from you, there’s a reason why they’re hiding it… 

    Okay yea it’s blissfully ignorant, i know

  • Anonymous

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    […] It is also blindingly obvious that ‘God’ is just Santa Claus for adults. Believing in Him may give you comfort in times of trouble and give you something to […]

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