Two weeks before Christmas, Tara* was an emotional mess. “I love this holiday,” she told me. “I love the decorations and lights and the smell of the trees. I love going to church with my family on Christmas Eve and coming home and having our traditional Christmas Eve meal…” So what was the problem? Tara’s family was a large one. She had four siblings, three of whom were married with children. Her parents also each had large families, and many aunts, uncles and cousins (first, second and even third) joined the family for church and dinner on Christmas Eve. Because there were so many of them, they had long ago established a practice of “Secret Santa,” with each person drawing the names of two people for whom they were responsible to find a suitable gift from the entire family.

This year, Tara had drawn one of her brothers and one of her aunts. “My brother’s a cinch,” she said. “He’s been talking for ages about exactly what he wants. I’ve already bought it. And I know he’ll be happy with it!” Her aunt, on the other hand, had her worried. “She’s a real perfectionist,” Tara told me. “She’s emailed her Christmas list to the whole family, so that whoever got her name would know what to get her. But the problem is, I can’t buy everything on the list, and I don’t know what to choose. And I’m so worried that even if I choose the right thing, I won’t get it right.

I wondered why her aunt’s gift was causing Tara so much anxiety. “I know,” she said. “It really seems silly. It’s one person and one gift, for pity’s sake. And really, it’s not what Christmas is about, anyway. But,” she said a little sadly, “I can’t seem to stop myself from obsessing about it. I want her to be pleased and I’m so worried that she won’t be.”

The question of gift-giving is often a central theme in psychotherapy during December. (I talked about what I call the “giving tree syndrome” in my post on Psychology Today last year. http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-couch/201012/the-giving-tree-syndrome This year, it seems to me, worries about the economy and the state of the world have been crystallizing around anxiety about finding meaningful gifts for loved ones. “I’m trying to figure out what I can buy that will show my wife how much I love her but won’t upset her because I spent too much money,” one client explained.   

But the problem is not simply one of choosing the perfect gift. The problem is also about how to deal with the way our gifts are received. And, unfortunately, many of us are not particularly good at receiving graciously!

Take, for example, the practice of re-gifting. On the surface, it seems a highly practical response to the gifts we get that can’t be returned and aren’t going to be used. But even if the person who gave it never knows what we’ve done, sometimes we unconsciously and unintentionally communicate our rejection to them. And what does that rejection mean? It might mean absolutely nothing. But despite a new ad campaign that says “it’s not the thought that counts,” the time and personal interest that went into finding a present can be significant. Rejection of a gift can feel like rejection of the person him or herself.

And bottom line, that’s what Tara was worried about. Her aunt was difficult and prickly. But she was also very important to Tara. If she was pleased with the gift, it would mean that she was pleased with Tara.  

Or would it? The trick to accepting a gift graciously is to communicate that you appreciate the thought, time, energy, caring, or whatever that went into it, no matter what it is! (and don’t be fooled – even gifts that appear to have taken no thought or time may be the result of a long period of trying to find the right thing, only to suddenly realize that the giver has run out of time and still hasn’t found anything).

And the trick to giving without getting your feelings hurt if it’s not accepted graciously? Put as much of yourself into finding the right gift as you can; and then remind yourself that the gift is not you. You did your part. If your aunt, father, sister, boyfriend or wife can’t see that, it’s their problem. Not yours.