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| Mom and B in the Christmas spirit |
Growing up, like most kids, I loved Christmas. No religious context, but trees, gifts, stockings (I can still picture mine exactly), turkey, snow, skating in the backyard, and in later years, the arrival home of siblings to visit. At this moment, I am remembering Carol surprising us by coming home unannounced from Montreal, and me not recognizing her (fancy makeup, wig, white go-go boots...).
As a young adult, Christmas remained one of highlights of my year. Tree in my apartment. Xmas music. Walking to enjoy the lights. And I always came (went?) home, an important family time.
Aside of the disastrous boyfriend breakup year, in which I agreed to hide my pain, there weren't many low points. The otherwise very nice bf I had been living with for a couple of years confessed that he had fallen in love with a co-worker, but could I please say nothing, as he didn't want my parents to think ill of him over the holidays. We still didn't know what we were going to do, so I naively agreed (I was, what, 22? 23? so young...). I left for the holidays while he spent a "trial" weekend with her (!). When he arrived at my parents house a few days later he told me, yup, that was it, they were in love, and I would need to move out. I can still see a picture of me, trying to put on a brave face, saying nothing, while my heart was breaking. In the end, they got married, had kids, and I moved on to eventually figure out who I was (and it wasn't the cookie baking, pork chop making homemaker I had been playing at).
In the years that followed, perhaps in part to compensate, I became obsessive about Christmas, to the amusement (?) of my friends and co-workers, and to the point of becoming intolerable to my family. Totally overboard. If anyone who knew me then could see me now, they probably wouldn't believe it.
By the time I faced issues that had been haunting me, and I went into therapy, the only way I could cope, and find my way through the mess, was to cut myself off from my family. No more trips home. I can't even remember when I stopped gift-giving and receiving. Maybe it was that first year, or later, but I found my way free by announcing to family that I was no longer "doing" Christmas, don't send me gifts, and I would give money to charity . Confused and baffled everyone, but I was in survival mode. I've kept that charity Christmas ritual to this day though.
To say Christmas was a dark period for me would be an understatement. I hated the whole season, and Christmas Day was particularly painful. It was like I broke my own heart, but it was the only way I could break free, get in touch with issues, find my way through them, and begin to heal. In the process, I hurt family members who had nothing to do with the underlying issues at play. It's only recently that I've been acknowledging that.
That first Christmas on my own, I remember walking around the Stanley Park seawall ~ I still thought I should do something to mark the day ~ and being so sad and alone, walking amongst families at their happiest time of the year. Oops. That didn't become a ritual.
I hated Christmas so much, and all the pain it evoked in me, that I would start to get tense by the time fall came around. Instead of enjoying autumn, I could feel the gloom setting in, dreading the next 4 months. Black. Dark. Painful. Unavoidable. Holding on until the whole damn season was over. Boxing Day was like freedom day for me, I'd made it through another year, and wouldn't feel the world pressing in on me. I could breathe.
My coping mechanisms changed over the years, for the most part settling on Hawaii as a better place to be, though I still had to cope with trees, carols and grocery stores that closed. The sun helped me too, as I eventually discovered I had S.A.D. and benefitted from the dose of sun.
I can't remember when Christmas stopping being painful, or at least tolerable. But this non-celebration of the season just became the fabric of my life. I still didn't like trees, carols, lights and Merry Christmas wishes, but I tolerated them. At this point I think I fooled myself into thinking that Christmas was meaningless to me, but of course that wasn't so.
The dynamic began to shift for me when Patti came to Greece in 2009 and we spent he month together, in Athens and Rhodes. Very gently, things started to become ok, such as the touches of Christmas that surrounded us. The lights were kind of pretty, and I enjoyed learning about how the local in Greece celebrated. And as it was still a special time for my sister, I experimented with breaking my own rules, suggesting that a small gift or two would be ok, and did we have any socks we could put to use? In the end, we sang, drank ouzo, picked up a few Greek trinkets, and I made Christmas dinner (!), though it was pasta. Nothing bad happened, and my heart started to melt a little. Imagine that.
The timing was fortuitous, as it was in 2010 that I found myself living with mom, and creating Christmas for her. She didn't really "do" Christmas anymore, at least no tree, but a kind neighbour came every year to put up lights on the house for her. I learned her rituals, of inviting him and his children in for hot chocolate when the lights were hung. This same family shovelled her snow and took the lights down again, so more hot chocolate. And so it came that I was actively involved the fabric of her life, including how she marked all the seasons.
At this point, mom's dementia meant she really didn't remember those difficult years (a blessing), so she took in the love and joy of her family, and enjoyed the little things. Her favourites were Christmas music (oh, how she loved music!), and all the lights. Mostly my sister made the season, and I played along, and it became easy to just be in the moment, and enjoy it all with her, and enjoy her enjoyment. Suddenly, it wasn't about me anymore, and I found myself listening to Christmas carols and enjoying the lights. I'd spent so many years pushing Christmas away, that I was surprised to find I didn't hate it anymore. Imagine that!
Eventually, as she slipped further away, she retained a childlike delight in carols, bells, lights and treats. Mom was so sweet in her later years, it was a joy to sing with her. Oh, what pangs of sadness it brings me in this moment to remember... I miss her so much. I cry. And I am reminded how much grieving I still have to do.
But, for today, I embrace mom's joy and love. I sing the way we would greet each on Christmas mornings, the same as we always had, the love stringing together the moments that matter.
Today, I reflect, try to enjoy memories that don't make me cry, or not too much, appreciate my blessings, and avail myself of a few treats. I feel joy for those with their families, and compassion for those who are without. I am happy for the kids who must be delighted to ind snow when they awoke.
I am especially appreciative of the love of both my brother and sister. There are just three of us now, and I cherish them. My brother still doesn't know what to make of my solitude at this time of year, as he's the opposite, but he puts up with his Scroogy sister and we'll connect at some point. There are times even I am tired of my aloofness, and how it must come off to my extended family, but this is me at the moment.
It's at times like this, when my sister is home with her daughter, that I get a bit of time to reflect and relax. And, for today, aside of a little writing to start my day, no heavy thinking. Just nuggets of happy memories, as I listen to Christmas music on CBC, and perhaps the crackle of the Shaw fireplace, putter in my home, eat a few treats, and pause. Maybe a Christmas movie or two, some drawing, a toast or two, a snooze or two, and just being.
Merry Christmas to you.
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