If the first few months of the year are your least favorite, you aren’t alone. Clean white snow becomes slushy and gray. Wintery winds continue their attempt to rip your face from your very body. Leaving the house becomes a full-on endeavor. And smack dab in the center of all this delight lies that love-it-or-hate-it holiday – Valentine’s Day.
Before you run for the hills assuming I’m just another one of “them” (those obnoxiously happy-in-love people that everybody hates), let me be up front. I am married. Happily, even. However, this article will not be a mush fest about my irresistible star-crossed sweetie pie. Promise.
In all honesty, when I think about Valentine’s Day, the first thing that comes to mind is my mom.
You see, growing up, my mom was my annual Valentine. Every V-Day morning I would get out of bed and run downstairs to find an adorable stuffed animal waiting for me.
There were usually a few tasty treats as well. Sometimes I even got a toy or a DVD. (Yes, I was a wee bit spoiled, thanks for asking.)
I won’t lie, I loved the gifts. But there was more. No matter the present, she always left a card and it was always filled with a sweet, heartfelt message about how much she loved me.
Something magical happened when I read these cards. I felt special. It’s like I was cloaked in an invisible shield of protection that no negativity could penetrate. Nothing could get me down that day because no matter what, I was loved.
It seems somewhat silly that this small yearly gesture could have such a strong effect. After all, my mom loved me every single day. She told me all the time. She still tells me all the time.
Nevertheless, there is something to be said about taking the time to put that love into writing and choosing gifts she knew I would enjoy to express that love.
Oh, and in case you thought this was just a childhood tradition, you’re mistaken. I’ve never gone a single Valentine’s Day without some kind of special delivery from my mama; I’m twenty-five years old.
Despite my age, I still feel that warm surge of appreciation every time I receive one of her special gifts. It reminds me that I’m cared for.
Even on my worst days in my crummiest moods in the ugliest circumstances, I am loved. It’s a simple fact that’s easily forgotten.
The beauty of it is I’m not the only one. Every single human being on this planet is loved by someone.
Maybe you’re single. Maybe you’re hurting. Perhaps you’re even heartbroken. I know this time of year is difficult and I’m sorry. I’ve been there. It’s easy to become disheartened when you look around and see this constant portrayal of romance and the way Valentine’s Day is “supposed” to be.
Just remember, Valentine’s Day is about love. That’s it. Not couples, not Hallmark cards, not candlelit dinners. Love. There is undoubtedly love in your life. Use this holiday to celebrate it.
Try to resist the temptation to bash this holiday and all that comes with it. I understand the commercialism becomes obnoxious, but just remind yourself what the holiday is truly about and remember that it pertains to everyone, not just smitten kittens.
Besides, nobody looks good in bitter. Try wearing hope or gratitude instead.
And to the lovebirds out there, go ahead with your red roses and overstuffed teddies. Indulge in the chocolates. (Actually, everyone do that.) Just be sure to keep in mind that as beautiful as these presents may be, it’s the thought that truly counts.
Valentine’s Day, like most things in life, is what you make it. Choose to make it a day about love. And really, how can anybody hate on love?
