Stepping Off The Cross To Watch A Romcom

FOMO is Hell

By Ashley Sudeta

If you celebrate Christmas, part of what makes it such a wonderful holiday is getting to spend it with the important people in my life. As December 24th melts into Christmas day, it’s just me, my brothers, my parents, and an old man in a robe ranting about how tragic it is that OUR SAVIOR WAS BORN IN A BARN! Ah, midnight mass is quite the experience.

Growing up Catholic meant that major religious holidays like Christmas and Easter felt more regimented than the way my more irreligious peers appeared to celebrate it. As snow piled up on the lawn and Mariah Carey blared in every store, my family made it a habit to light our Advent candles every Sunday with a prayer. The story we listened to every Christmas Eve wasn’t about reindeer on the roof, but Jesus’ genealogy (son of David, son of Abraham, son of – you get the point). While I was well aware of “the Christmas spirit” in a more friendly sense, I also knew the original meaning of the holiday and often worried about its ties to my postmortem destination.

The two sides of Christmas, the secularized sequel to Thanksgiving and the holy birth of Jesus Christ, sat as uncomfortably inside me as the 4 sugar cookies I had for Christmas breakfast. Opening gifts with my family was fun, but I worried that the joy of the holiday detracted from my reverence. Every fun, commercialized tradition was frosted with guilt and a sense that I was doing the holiday “wrong.”

Secular holidays never stirred up these feelings though. I never felt the underlying fear that I wasn’t observing them in the correct way or was feeling the wrong things. After all, I associated Valentine’s Day and Halloween with certain color schemes more than actions that I was obligated to partake in. So, while there are societal expectations for what someone might have planned on these dates, the consequences of noncompliance felt more along the lines of FOMO, than the threat of burning in Hell.

To address the technicalities, yes, Valentine’s Day has religious roots. However, I think we can agree that it practically qualifies as secular at this point. Valentine’s Day tends to get a bad rap today. People credit it with straining relationships, creating feelings of loneliness, and of course placing too high of value on romantic love. I can't deny this, but thankfully I haven't experienced much of it myself. Part of why I have such a positive perspective of the holiday may be due to my complicated relationship with religious holidays — you have to choose your battles. Compared to Easter or Christmas, secular holidays always felt more optional to me: there was less pressure, less Mass attendance, less threats of burning in Hell. The bar was lower. Through this I found that deconstructing the expectations and standards around holidays has helped me enjoy them more.

I know, this is easier said than done, but it doesn’t hurt to point out the obvious —external expectations cause us to pass unfair judgments on ourselves. For example, on any normal day it would be a miracle if I managed to study and go to sleep early. The restraint, the responsibility! Bravo! But when I stay in on the day that I was “supposed” to go out with a green borg? Shame on me for committing the crime of being boring in my youth. We reserve these double standards for ourselves. Still, for all the times I’ve felt inadequate, I’ve also had fun celebrating holidays in unconventional ways or by doing nothing at all. Realizing that a “celebration” doesn’t have to be dramatic or traditional opened the door to me observing holidays on my own terms. There’s no punishment – religious or societal – for doing things the way you like. Having a good sandwich can be a St. Patrick's Day celebration, doing nothing is good enough for "Halloweekend." As long as you’re happy with it, you’re doing it “right.” This year I’m celebrating Valentine’s Day by watching “The Lego Batman Movie” with my roommates. I’m excited for it and that’s all that matters because celebrations are about the fun, not the pressure.

Wake Mag