relery.untamed
Open Hearts Open Minds
Today is Christmas Eve, year two-thousand and twenty-two. This day holds a large amount of space for the events and emotions it's occupied over the years. In other words -- the bandwidth for utter chaos. For starters, today is my parents' thirty-second anniversary. Unfortunately, that doesn't hold the same significance for me or for them as it does to many long-time married individuals. A congratulations is far from earned. My extended family would come over to our house for a few hours every year and try to pretend as though things were "normal" -- whatever that means. We'd joke & laugh, gift them funny cards mocking their marriage, and figured that if we all united in making fun of it, then it might make everyone feel more comfortable. Mom and Dad would sarcastically side-arm hug, pretend to peck and wipe it off while I rolled my eyes. The night would carry on and we would graze, frantically open presents, and socialize. We'd do the things families were "supposed" to do. Mine is extremely small, so making the rounds wasn't difficult. We'd play pool, sing karaoke, and dance ridiculously depending on my Dad's mood-- which was quickly malleable. He was the life of the party and knew how to put on quite the show. But there was always an expiration date and a ticking time bomb waiting to explode behind closed doors once the party died. My Mother would worry for months leading up to Christmas Eve, trying to get the house ready to occupy anyone other than us inside of it. We would frantically hide away the turmoil behind curtains and cabinets in an attempt to fix a whole years' worth of neglect and piling compulsions that filled every room. She became a drill sergeant with impossible standards and expectations that couldn't be met. Though, one of the things I love about my Mom is her exquisite taste for all things in life. She appreciates high-quality and the idea of establishing traditions in a formal way. It means something to her to try to make things "how they ought to be". She never wanted the Subway sandwich trays or the veggie and dip platters. She wanted specialty meats and made-from-scratch, everything. She wanted joy, laughter, and genuine belly-aching fun. She wanted things to be special. Unfortunately, her attempts to perfect everything became a part of what ruined everything. The pressure and comparison to other families. The resentment & frustration to work so hard in her job and then have to slave away, pulling all-nighters to make her signature sauerkraut & kielbasa and clean. Feeling like she had to do everything on her own for it to be good. It was not uncommon for her to not sleep, but on this occasion it was more about "what she had to do to make everyone happy and try to create something nice." This always left her in tears, feeling as though all of the effort never mattered. And it always left me absolutely shattered inside watching the dominos fall. It was havoc and sorrow with glimmers of happiness and a few really good memories tucked away in there which left that child-like hope of something to look forward to each year. Like a starving dog hopeful for a treat. But in these attempts to normalize what would never be "normal" for us -- this time of year just triggered very high stress, lots of arguing, yelling, tears, name-calling, and lots of hurt feelings. The worst part is that this wasn't much different from any other day -- only amplified. We all wanted things to be different today. And different for us was as simple as having home-cooked meals, a chaos and clutter-free space for at least 24 hours, and peace. Even though I can't say we ever fully experienced "different", we sure as heck tried. (Thank you, Mom. I always saw you) Something I looked forward to most was having my Grandma Jane stay overnight after the other families left. She knew how hard this time was for everyone sharing my roof, and she purposely positioned herself there as a beacon of peace. A mediator. Someone to say "enough is enough" and give me the eyes of support I needed to know someone was with me and affirmed me. We would wake in the morning and chat in bed, have tea and coffee and open presents that my parents always put a ton of effort into. Gift giving was a big love language for them, and I always appreciated their intentionality with it. But to be honest - I never really cared about the gifts and thought they brought about more stress and hurt feelings than not. They also used to love showing me videos from when I was young, maybe 4....5....6 years old. My Dad would pull out the video recorder and I would peek my head out through the upstairs balcony. My tiny shy voice would say "Merry Christmas" as an excited grin spread across my cheeks. I would slide from one stair to the next on my bottom until I could see the tree. My face lit up as bright as all the lights combined. My parents cherished that image of me closely. They always wanted me to feel that way, even though they knew that smile had grown faint as the years passed.
Fast forward and at least a decade of my life has been spent with others' families for the holidays. There's something so kind and wonderful about being welcomed and feeling a part of something that isn't "yours". But to be honest, there's a sadness in that as well that I've always felt guilty for. I can't really explain it other than immense gratitude and grief.
This holiday season has been especially challenging. Entering year 3 in another state. Sometimes not really even knowing why I'm here, but also not knowing where else to be. Moving for my 4th time since Michigan. Counting up the amount of times I've moved in the last 7 years of my life feeling embarrassed by my inability to feel "home" anywhere. What is "home"? Transition after transition. Loneliness. Idealizing the life I could have had if I'd made different choices. Would I be happy with that life? Wondering why I've done everything I've done thus far in my life to end up on the same hamster wheel. Knowing I still have so much hard work to do to experience freedom of my fears. Spending the holidays alone and watching families celebrate through a screen. Missing my family and also creating boundaries around my family. Wishing I was with them and also knowing the ache I'd feel around them. When I was a Christian, all of these feelings felt invalid because this time period wasn't supposed to be about me. It was easier for me to express gratitude and grant positive perspective, omitting my feelings like I was conditioned to. When I unbecame a Christian, I was frustrated by not knowing why me and half the country were celebrating this day in the first place? I grew angry with the materialistic, surface-level presentation of this day and how to be a part of it authentically. When I sat with both versions of myself, I opted to find an in-between. Something that said....
The truth is, this isn't the most wonderful time of the year for everyone. For some people, it's extremely busy and stressful and hectic. For others it's isolating. But for a lot of people, it really is beautiful. And intentional. And warm, and uniting, and special. I've tried to spend today asking myself, "What does this time of year mean to me?" "Why does it hold significance?" "What do I want this time to look like for myself now and in the future?" Some people never really have to ask themselves these questions because they just do what they've always done, or tag along to whatever they feel obligated to attend. Then there were others who were forced to ask. But that's in part why I'm writing this -- Because you don't have to experience the same things to experience the same feelings. And that can be uniting to people who might feel that no-one understands or feels the way they do, even though there are probably a lot more people that do than you realize. Sometimes when we are in deep, we don't even want to feel that we are not alone. We don't want to believe others feel the same way, because that taps into our wound of feeling invalidated for OUR experiences and OUR feelings. We get absorbed into a self-wallowing protection mechanism we use to feel deeper loneliness than we need to. Ironic, isn't it? So, for those of you who feel that weight today and every year, this is for you. I'm forcing a virtual hug onto all of you this year. Especially those who need one more than they want one. For all the things I can and cannot understand. I consider it a pain and a privilege to have to redefine this time of year for myself. Because the holidays aren't always happy. And Christmas's aren't always Merry. And even though I don't think I was ready create my own traditions this year, I look forward to the opportunities I have to part ways with chaos and make room for solace. We all deserve to rewrite our futures.
4 Comments
Jenn
12/25/2022 03:55:17 pm
Sending a virtual hug right back at you friend
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Steve
12/26/2022 11:20:04 am
Yes, we all do. Not sure throwing your family's business out on front street for the world to view is the right way to start.. just my opinion but you do you ✌️
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Katie
12/26/2022 01:05:16 pm
I liked what you said about to feel how you feel...happy and sad, grateful and lonely....that resignated with me! Soo real and true.
Reply
Mark
12/30/2022 08:55:29 am
Thankful for you, and these words. Many people share similar feelings, you have a way of writing the things that people are thinking.
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Becoming who I am without the world telling me who to be.-Rachel (R) Elery Archives
March 2021
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