也許我會少買一些禮物, 多寫一些真心話。 可能是手寫卡片、 可能是一封只有我們看得懂的垃圾話 long text, 可能是一次認真聊天,不滑手機的散步。
我知道, 有些人會不習慣, 甚至還是會暗暗計算:「為什麼今年縮水了?」
但沒關係。 總要有人先停下來, 從「禮物工廠模式」 換回「人跟人之間到底在交換什麼」這個原點。
我今年最大的願望是 —— 讓身邊的人慢慢懂: 禮物不是我欠你的, 是我願意把一塊「我自己」分給你。
如果有一天, 收到我一張小小的卡片, 你比收到一個大包裹還開心, 那才是我想過的聖誕節。
🫧 The Christmas where I give less
Christmas slipped in again this year, quietly, like it always does. The malls turned on the same old jingles, but my body refused to enter “gift shopping mode”.
Every other year, I’d open my notes app and start building a “people I should probably buy gifts for” list: family, friends, coworkers, and those awkward “not that close but not that distant” humans. Then comes the ritual — budget, shopping, wrapping, labeling. Me, acting like a one-woman Santa logistics center.
But this year? Nothing. No spark. No urge. Not because I love them less, but because I’ve spent this entire year finally paying attention to myself, and I accidentally discovered something both brutal and funny:
A gift is supposed to be a feeling, and feelings don’t come with price tags.
A small card I actually sit down and write can weigh more than an expensive, random “this looks fine” present. One sincere, no-phone dinner can be more honest than a fancy object bought out of obligation.
The problem is— this sounds beautiful in spiritual books, but in real life, it hits a wall the moment it turns into:
“You used to give me a present. This year… you didn’t.”
To someone who’s used to you giving, you haven’t done anything wrong, but you still somehow become the person who “gave less” or “doesn’t care as much anymore”.
This is the tragedy of being the “nice person”: once your kindness becomes a habit, any pause feels like betrayal.
This year, I want to try something different: redefine what “giving a gift” means.
Not “stop giving”. But shift from “how much & how many” to “how real & how present”.
Maybe I’ll buy fewer things, and write more cards. Maybe I’ll send a long, ridiculous, deeply personal message that only we can understand. Maybe I’ll choose to really show up, instead of really swipe my card.
Some people won’t get it. Some will silently calculate: “Why is this year… smaller?”
That’s fine. Someone has to be the first to step out of the gift factory line and ask: “What are we actually trying to exchange here?”
My wish this Christmas is simple: for the people around me to slowly understand that a gift isn’t something I owe you— it’s a little piece of myself I choose to share.
The day a small handwritten card makes you happier than a big shiny box, that’s the Christmas I want to live in.