It’s hard to be obsessive-compulsive and a perfectionist, especially during the holiday season.  In some ways it’d be easier to be a bear and hibernate rather than see all the possibilities of being in the celebratory season and not know which thing to do, which songs to sing, which traditions to pull off, which decorations to use, which foods to make, which clothes to wear, which tv specials to watch, which way to make everything so wonderful and magical and beautiful while feeling so not that way inside.

I know I don’t have to do that:  it’s self-made pressure.  And after reading this post, I’m following suit:  “I’m not getting organized for Christmas this year.  I think I’m just going to show up for it.”  Actually, realistically, I’ll take steps towards this, because being an obsessive-compulsive perfectionist means that I would throw out all the decorations, eliminate all holiday festivities, and lay like a sloth on the couch being thoroughly uncelebratory until the New Year; and somehow I think the kids already have enough fodder in their few years to support a future psychiatrist for quite a while.

Daily Drivel, Holiday Hoopla