When my parents told me Santa wasn’t real, I cried for hours. 

How could the kindly, old celebrity with the toy-making genius of Hasbro, Fisher Price, and Mattel combined, not exist? For me, it was like finding out Justin Beiber wasn’t real. It wasn’t much better when I was informed that the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and leprechauns were fake as well. 

I felt betrayed.

As  a very naive child, this hit me like a slap to the face. I had spent countless hours artfully arranging cookie boards to leave out on Christmas and designing leprechaun traps made out of shoeboxes and popsicle sticks to catch the pranksters whom my parents told me lived in my closet.

Was all that time I spent believing in those non-existent figures for nothing? 

Like most betrayals the average 10-year-old experiences, I got over it. As I got older, I began to see the logic in what they told me: where could the tooth fairy possibly have obtained the funding and permits necessary to continue her tooth-collecting business? How would Santa make toys for all the world’s children up in a factory in the North Pole? The carbon emissions would be crazy: the ice would melt! 

And so I began to preach the blasphemy of believing in these mythical figures to all my friends. I prided myself on my maturity and rationality: in reality, I was a total party-pooper. 

 Like I’ve heard many of my peers relate: as I got older, Christmas and other holidays lost their magic. No longer was I antsy for days before a major event or squealing with excitement when I lost a tooth. 

Despite my outward cynicism, I still lamented this loss, throwing myself even harder into the holidays, unsure as to why: I dyed increasingly intricate easter eggs, baked a variety of sweets for special occasions, and started blasting Christmas music in November. I took the holidays very seriously. 

No matter what I did though, the sleepless excitement of Christmas Eve 2013 just couldn’t be replicated. 

Now I think it’s because I was constantly chasing the joy of past years’ celebrations, that I never truly got to enjoy the present. I refused to suspend my disbelief and disappointment and take these holidays for what they were. Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy —  I was so overwhelmed by this shattered reality to embrace the joy that those memories left behind. 

While no, there may not be a bearded man at the north pole, or a leprechaun hiding in my closet, there is joy there. 

While the Easter Bunny may not be real, the hours I spent scampering around my house, trying to “think like the bunny” to find brightly colored plastic eggs, were. While Santa Claus may be a myth, his characteristic generosity is an impactful lesson. I’ve come to realize that my belief wasn’t a bad thing.

In all of these figures there are metaphors, life lessons, and most importantly, something beyond the physical, real world, that I believe is what fills the holiday with that childlike wonder. You can’t buy joy, so why was I trying to dye it,  to stream it, to bake it? 

So this year, I’m not gonna take the holidays too seriously. I’m not going to focus on the gifts I hope to receive or the unity of my Easter egg design. I’m going to relax and put on some old holiday movies. 

And who knows, maybe this Saint Patrick’s Day I’ll construct another leprechaun trap, just for the fun of it.