I don’t know what it is about the Christmas holiday, but while many of my friends wax on nostalgically about family gatherings they remember from their childhood, or how they first learned the truth about Santa Claus, this time of year drives me into feeling a strong sense of lack.

Normally, it’s very easy for me for me to think about how small things fill me with gratitude. (I get happy and excited when I catch a bus or discover a forgotten sweater when I clean out my closet.) I tend to look at all sorts of experiences as gifts. But having to actually give gifts trigger old feelings of not being good enough.

I get self-conscious about what I can afford to buy people in my life. I’ll worry about leaving someone out who (I find out later) buys something for me, and I’ll worry about whether a gift measures up to what is expected from me.

The angst I experience around the annual gift-giving ritual seems to be intensified because it coincides with end of year performance reviews, another opportunity to contemplate worth in the eyes of others.

I felt a lot of pressure this year about making a nice Christmas for my youngest niece. Months ago she announced her disappointment over my sister deciding to go on a South American adventure cruise during her first Christmas break from college.

I can’t compete with my eldest sister when it comes to cookie baking and exercising her credit cards in Emma’s behalf. I know holiday gifting is not about competing, but putting pressure on myself to please someone I love seems engrained.

I wanted to do something for her that my sister couldn’t and her father probably wouldn’t. I set out to install a Christmas tree in the living room of my new home and give her the opportunity to decorate it. Not having had much of a personal tradition of collecting ornaments and decorating a tree and not wanting to drag a fresh tree up to the second floor of my building myself, I was surprised to find this part of my goal easier than I thought.

I announced to a few friends that I wanted to have a tree and, like magic, everything I needed came to me. Nancy remembered having a small artificial tree stored in her basement and Nina offered the use of her ornaments and lights since she was on an out of town work assignment and had no plans for them this year. I don’t know if this qualifies as recycling but I felt good about re-purposing things that would have stayed stored in boxes.

Only a week before Christmas, I invited Emma to have dinner at my place. She seemed less interested in hanging wooden Santas and angels on my faux pine branches than with having a nice meal with me, regaling me with stories about how well she did in her classes, and watching TV with me on my couch.

She wasn’t taken by the efforts I made to get her a Christmas tree. I suppose at one time, I would have chosen to be more disappointed. She did seem to appreciate a home-cooked meal and the chance to introduce me to a favorite comedy special that she was able to stream into my living room.

I was in high anxiety in the days leading up to my performance review. I am a contractor, not an employee, but I derive most of my income from work performed for one firm and, at times, feel insecure about my prospects despite having an 8-year relationship with the company.

I put my concerns in writing before talking to the person that doles out assignments. I didn’t get a rate increase, but I did receive the same bonus as employees and during our discussion, my contributions to the organization were validated. We agreed to have more frequent conversations about my prospects.

It felt like another experience of recycling. I was recycling my assumptions about not being valued because no offers of employment were made, and I received very little feedback from them during the natural course of performing work.

This Christmas, maybe I didn’t get what I wanted, but I got what I needed. I found myself enjoying the decorated tree in my living room despite not getting the reaction I might have wanted from my niece. I didn’t negotiate a new fee structure with my primary client, but I aired some concerns that will make this type of conversation easier.

Remembering to do things for your own pleasure is no small thing. Honoring your feelings by putting them in writing and then asking for a conversation is also no small thing.