I’m embarrassed to say that I believed in Santa for longer than I should of.
The idea of him was just so appealing for me. Santa to me, was a bringer of joy. So why would I not want to believe in the wonders that he did and the happiness that he brought to so many kids around the world?
This big bellied man in a scarlet suit was able to do impossible things. I mean, the man could squeeze himself down the tiniest of chimneys!
I stopped believing in him because that what was expected of me.
I was too grown up to continue to believe in a fictional character. Plus there was a growing number of people telling me Santa did not exist. I had no choice but to move on.
I remember feeling sad that I had to let go of that belief in this jolly white bearded man. He made me happy. So not believing in him any longer upset me.
What could I believe in now? What was the whole point of all these grown ups telling me about such a splendid man, just for them to tell me they lied and he’s not real?
It took me a long time to come to terms with the whole Santa thing. To me it was like I was grieveing the loss of one of my favourite people in the world.
But I’m a stubborn girl and honestly I haven’t completely let go of my belief in Santa. I just believe in him in a different way now.
He’s real in a difference sense. The idea of Santa is what I believe in now. The idea that he brings joy. He is joy. And joy is such a special thing to believe in. To hold on to.
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