Before Chinese New Year, neatly folded pairs of red clothing occupied a prominent position in my closet, and in my drawer lay a pendant in the shape of a pixiu, a mythical beast that confers protection and prosperity on its wearer. But, I had asked myself, was I ready for the coming Year of the Snake, my Chinese zodiac year? Would these auspicious items help shepherd me through this period in safety?

I grew up in Cleveland in the United States, where the Chinese zodiac was little more than a curiosity I encountered on place mats at Chinese restaurants while waiting for orders of spring rolls, fried rice and sweet-and-sour pork. But living in China has schooled me in the customs surrounding the Chinese zodiac, including warding off bad luck in one's benmingnian, or Chinese zodiac year, by wearing red clothing or a special talisman.

My previous Chinese zodiac year sent a wrecking ball through my life. The rational side of me called it coincidence, pointing to many non-zodiac years filled with hardships. The superstitious side of me wondered if I had bungled a custom. Last time, I bought all the red clothing I wore for myself, instead of receiving it as a gift; did that cancel its protective power? Was my bright pink clothing not red enough to safeguard me?

This time, I was determined to rectify these errors. After I begged my husband to prepare a propitious gift for my Chinese zodiac year, he surprised me on Christmas morning with the pixiu pendant. His Taobao account paid for the clothing, each piece as scarlet as a Spring Festival lantern.

I had thought I was set, until I made the mistake of doing an internet search on the pixiu, inundating me with lists of "dos and don'ts" for wearers, from how to "activate" it, even to where you should place it in your home. When I read that no one else should touch your pixiu, lest that disrupt the "bond "between you and the beast, I recalled my husband inadvertently handling the pendant while rethreading it with a new red string. In response to such disconcerting realizations, one website had a section titled "What to do if someone else touches your pixiu?" (Answer: Rinse it with water). How did wearing a simple pendant become so complicated?

Indeed, superstitious thinking, if given free rein, will push you to obsess over the ways you or those you love have suffered adversity, as if the failure to follow a "rule "played a hand in it. Years ago, I realized in retrospect that my mother's terminal cancer diagnosis and death happened during her Chinese zodiac year, and that my father witnessed this heart-wrenching turn of events during his. A part of me wondered, had some Chinese zodiac curse touched my family? But this is reductive thinking; wearing red clothing or the right pendant during that year would not have magically saved her from a cancer that, according to doctors, had likely been hidden for years before that fateful tumor appeared in her neck.

Given the meaning and importance of one's benmingnian in Chinese culture, and my past experiences, I couldn't help but grapple with how to prepare. But that doesn't mean I need to live in trepidation, now that the Year of the Snake has arrived. These Chinese New Year traditions are also expressions of hope and happiness meant to lift spirits for the nascent year. Now I'm learning to embrace the positive side of the customs. After all, I have an excuse to wear red, my favorite color, every single day.

The writer is a freelancer for China Daily.