I thought Santa should really know he was using the same wrapping paper as that of mere mortals. I considered it a public service bringing the issue to his attention.
That moment, I remember, instantly created an awkward pause, along with my mother’s nervous laughter and Santa’s stuttering. I guess I “busted” them. For a good thirty seconds, both Santa, his one blue eyeball peeking from underneath his hat and strategically placed white wig, and my mother, fumbled for explanations…
“Ah-well- Honey… people use the same wrapping paper… all of the time. It’s not that unusual for Santa to wrap his presents with the same paper Mommy uses- uh- it’s very common…”
Santa chimes in…
“Why- uh-yes, I use… wrapping paper that other families use… all the time!”
Uh-huh.
Something in me wasn’t buying it. All I had to do was go to our Christmas tree and pick a present for proof.
However, because I was raised to be “a good girl,” meaning, don’t question the adults, especially not Santa, I let it go. Thank you very much for coming. Please say “hi” to Rudolph.
Keep it moving.
But, however sweet, innocent and endearing this incident was, it was still gaslighting. For my mother wrapped the gift, gave it to this Santa-posing friend ahead of time, all for the purpose of reinforcing the entire Santa narrative.
Make it believable; sell it!
Something many a parent has done over the decades.
But here was the thing. At six, I was already starting to question Santa’s validity. Some things already were not adding up. Even though we had a chimney, why didn’t he ever use it? He always knocked loudly on our front door.
And even though I heard sleigh bells, why did I never SEE Rudolph? Wouldn’t he want me to feed him some carrots? I could pet him, along with the other reindeer.
No, everything seemed very controlled.
Don’t rush to look out the window or go outside to check the roof. It’s “too cold” and “too snowy.”
Yeah, I know. It’s Minnesota in winter. Christmas, remember?
No, no, stuff was not adding up. I was taking mental notes since I was four.
So, the angel wrapping paper was the tipping point. I KNEW what I saw!
Yet I was dissuaded from believing my experience. They tried to talk me out of it.
I know, I know, I know, it’s all in the name of childhood wonder and memories. And, overall, with this gaslighting incident, I got off light. After all, there was no abuse, no molestation. It could have been a lot more traumatic.
But still, the lesson that incident taught me was… to doubt myself.
And that’s what I’m getting at.
Gaslighting children to disbelieve what they see, hear, think and feel is harmful.
Years later, I’m not bitter about this memory. I know there was childhood innocence permeating it.
But there was a cost. However unintentional, it still laid the foundation for me to distrust what I knew, to forfeit my experience for someone else’s, someone “who knew better.”
Each of us can have that first moment of gaslighting. And, for many of us, that moment can exist within the vulnerable time of childhood.
Gaslighting does, after all, start somewhere.
Rolodex your own holiday and/or childhood memories. See anything? Remember anything?
How about, right now, giving yourself the gift to own and to acknowledge that yes, you KNEW what was going on! You were RIGHT!
You weren’t silly; you weren’t crazy!
You were a gaslit child.
And now, you’re so much more!
It’s now time to heal.
Happy holidays!
Copyright © 2025 by Sheryle Cruse
