I have been humming Christmas tunes lately, and who can blame me? Maybe the Christmas spirit has finally rubbed off on me, but from what I still remember from the blur of the days just passed, I have walked, commuted and spent my hard earned moolah for family and friends. The only thing rubbing off on me is the Christmas rush. No spirit yet. It has all been a buying frenzy for me.

Don’t get me wrong: I like giving gifts. And if money was not an issue, I would spend a fortune giving gifts to people I love.

“All I want for Christmas is you….” has been my earworm for a week already. It all started when Dianne edited a video for our Christmas party. And I have been hearing Mariah Carey since then.

No, I am not feeling sentimental over something or someone—not this Christmas anyway. And I like it that way.

But what do I want this Christmas? If I wanted something material, I would probably wish for an iTouch, a PSP (or DS Lite), a new cell phone, a Swatch watch (I got a feeling I will get one from Mom and Dad), a DSLR or a pair of diamond studded earrings to add to my humble jewelry collection.

If I wanted something short of a miracle, I would wish for a smaller, less rotund face, a thin me and great skin. But since they are close to being miracles, I will leave them to God. Maybe in His divine grace, He will grant my wish someday—or in my next life?

But what do I really want this Christmas?

I won’t go all-out humanitarian and say world peace and an end to starvation. We have all (I assume) been praying for that since time immemorial. But I would be happiest this Christmas if I would be able to run as fast as I can, walk as much as I want, sit, stand, crouch, cross my legs, kick, without fear of pain. I would be happy if I could do my arts and crafts, make fabulous bows and ribbons on the gifts I am giving, and wrap Christmas presents for family and friends without dreading the aftermath. I would like to be able to stroll with uncalculated steps, to meet friends for the holidays without thinking of the shortest and easiest route to get to the appointed place. I want to do the things I enjoy.

While watching TV the other day, I told my Mom how liberating it feels to walk for miles, soaking in the view (or lack of it), from the glitzy lights of buildings to the sullen look of the faces of street kids and the traffic jam along Buendia. But then pain chases me afterwards, and I have to take a pill to ease the ache.

I would like to normalize my life, I said to her. She was quick to point out, “But it’s not.” Still that’s my wish for the holidays. I find it increasingly irritating to perpetually evaluate my steps, my actions. I want to stop thinking whether I would be able to walk the day after a gruesome (but highly enjoyable) Christmas shopping. I would like to write love letters to my family and friends, type and blog. What I feel may be insignificant to those who are experiencing worse. It is not the Big C. But it is irritating.

If I cannot get my first wish, I will settle for a second one: that people will understand me. When I am quiet, it doesn’t mean I am being cranky; it means it hurts but I don’t want anyone to know it. When I blow my top, it means I am fed up with the pain. When I say it hurts, please don’t misinterpret it as whining; I just want to let you know.

I want my second wish to come true. And I hope it’s not too much to ask.

(Therese M. Gutierrez, 25, works in a bank.)