Why I Quit Christmas—and You Might Want to Too
Wet, sandy, and completely happy—this is what quality family time feels like for me. -Bali, 2024
Last year, I was racing down a sun-soaked beach in Bali, my nieces squealing with laughter as they darted across the sand. Their little feet kicked up sprays of saltwater, the waves crashing so loudly we almost had to shout just to be heard. That moment—wind in my hair, their tiny hands tugging at mine, the horizon melting into a watercolor sunset—was the epitome of quality family time for me. No wrapping paper. No gift receipts. No malls. Just joy, freedom, and memories etched into something deeper than a pile of discarded boxes.
Here’s the truth: I’ve stopped celebrating Christmas. Or at least, I’ve stopped acknowledging it in the way American culture insists we should. No tree, no stockings, no frantic December shopping trips. My husband and I don’t buy each other presents, because—why? If we need something, we buy it when we need it. We don’t need to pretend consumerism wrapped in glitter and bows is love. Instead, we spend our money building memories: wandering old Swiss castles with my mother in her 70s, hiking the Himalayas with my sister, standing awestruck as the sun rose over the temples of Bagan in Myanmar. Those are the gifts worth unwrapping.
Photocred: @theaminalizadeh
Why the Holiday Season Feels Forced
Don’t get me wrong—I love parts of the holiday season. The nostalgia of childhood lights twinkling, the cozy food comas, the rare chance to gather with extended family. But the gift-giving? That’s the part that’s turned Christmas into my least favorite holiday.
It’s beautiful when a gift is truly thoughtful. When someone casually mentions a book they’ve been wanting to read, and you surprise them with it months later—that exchange is full of love. But more often than not, holiday gifts have become empty transactions. Adults buying other adults things they could have bought themselves. Kids drowning in toys they’ll forget by February. Entire homes overflowing with stuff no one really needs, fueled by social conventions that say we “must” give each other things just to prove we care.
I’ve felt this outside the holidays, too—like with souvenirs. People feel obligated to bring something back from a trip, a magnet or trinket, even when it’s clear the last thing anyone needs is more junk in their drawers. Why do we keep burdening each other with things when what most of us crave is time, attention, and connection?
Real Family Time Beats Materialism
Lavender dreams, Provence, France, 2021
I’ll admit, sometimes I feel a twinge of FOMO when I see photos of my nieces unwrapping gifts, or my extended family piled on the couch in matching pajamas. But then I remind myself: I don’t skip family time. I just prioritize quality time. Each year, I carve out a full month to be with the people I love—completely immersed, attached at the hip. Not distracted by errands or obligations, but fully present. Those weeks have brought me closer to my family than any Christmas morning ever could.
I think of afternoons spent with my family outside a café in Italy, sipping espresso and sharing quiet laughter. I think of frolicking through lavender fields in Provence, holding my nieces’ hands as we twirled in the sun-drenched blooms. Of painting peacefully, alongside my husband under the shade of an old oak tree in Santa Barbara, swapping stories and smiles between brushstrokes. These are the moments that expand our lives, that weave us together with memories stronger than any object ever could, that fill us in ways no gift ever has.
Alternatives to Traditional Holiday Gift-Giving
Photocred: @zacharykeimeg
It’s not that I think gifts are evil. It’s that the cycle of forced materialism is exhausting. We exchange Amazon gift cards like it’s meaningful, but all we’re really doing is swapping money back and forth while fueling clutter and stress. It’s no wonder so many people secretly dread the holidays.
So here’s what I propose: we rethink it. What if instead of scrambling to buy ten meaningless gifts, we pooled energy and resources to give one person something truly special? Or we gifted experiences instead of things? A cooking class, a weekend trip, a day spent together doing something new. Or maybe we just ditched the obligation altogether, freeing adults from the charade of buying each other crap no one asked for.
Reflection: What Truly Matters This Holiday Season
For me, the answer has been opting out entirely. And I’ve never felt lighter. I don’t need a tree to feel joy, or a pile of boxes to measure love. I just need the sound of my nieces’ laughter as we chase each other across a foreign shore, my mother’s awe in a centuries-old church, or the quiet magic of watching the sun set in a place I’ve never been before.
These are the gifts that expand life, bond us with loved ones, and create stories we’ll cherish forever. The rest is just noise. So I wonder:
What memories are you truly investing in?
Which traditions are meaningful, and which are simply obligations we feel we must honor?
How much of your time, money, and energy is going toward things that will end up forgotten in a drawer?
If you had the choice—today, right now—would you rather unwrap another box, or step into a moment that might stay with you forever?
