From about the end of October through the New Year, every day was a steeper uphill battle than the day before. I never wanted to drag anyone down with me, so every year, I put on an extra festive mask and pretend that I was just as happy as everyone else when I just wanted to go to sleep until it was over.
I'd cherish those moments I was alone just so I was able to let down my guard and breathe, even for just a few seconds.
I'm not a Grinch or a Scrooge, and I don't wish ill will on anyone who celebrates, I just don't 'get' it. There's zero connection I have with it.
Growing up, my family never had any 'traditions'. We never went to get a tree together, never went and saw a movie on a particular day, never really put up decorations, never had a specific type of food we ate. Sure, we'd "celebrate" Thanksgiving day and Christmas day...but I use the word celebrate in the way you don't understand. There was some sort of big dinner, but it was fraught with fights and unspoken angst towards one another. We could never manage to put what was going on at that moment on hold long enough to even go around the table to talk about what we were thankful for, or just enjoy being together. On occasion we'd get together with the family of a friend my mom had at the time, but that didn't last long once they had a falling out.
When I was REALLY young, my parents did do decorations and lights, but those faded over time. Little by little, those things most families did started to disappear. My mom told me every year that the only reason they did a lot of those little 'traditions' was because of the kids. As we got older, and grew out of being kids, it was a natural progression that the little touches that make the holidays...well...the holidays...disappeared. I can't even remember the last time my parents put a Christmas tree up in the house. It was just 'too much work'.
The holidays, for me, were just a yearly reminder of the discomfort and animosity my family had for one another, or whatever situations in our lives we were dealing with at the time. On top of that, there were constant reminders about what a burden the holidays were because of all the things they did 'for the kids'.
I always felt a lot like Charlie Brown during this time of year.
Charlie Brown: I think there must be something wrong with me, Linus. Christmas is coming, but I'm not happy. I don't feel the way I'm supposed to feel. I just don't understand Christmas, I guess. I like getting presents and sending Christmas cards and decorating trees and all that, but I'm still not happy. I always end up feeling depressed.
Linus: Charlie Brown, you're the only person I know who can take a wonderful season like Christmas and turn it into a problem. Maybe Lucy's right. Of all the Charlie Browns in the world, you're the Charlie Browniest.
So, as I carried these scars into adulthood, I also carried the lack of tradition and the memories of loneliness I experienced every holiday season. I watched everyone around me, full of family and good cheer, and I had - well - nothing. I never had that wellspring of love in my life, or that sense of belonging...and I felt it especially during the holiday season.
I mean, grew up in a family where sending an email is an acceptable form of well wishing for the holidays, and where we were taught 'Birthdays just mean you're one more year closer to death".
I didn't know any different.
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When I got married 10 years ago, I joined a HUGE family. And, as with most large and close-knit families, comes lots of holiday celebrations and traditions and gatherings. Needless to say, I was thrust into this crazy celebratory environment and every year, the closer I got to all of that commotion, the more fearful and panicked I got. We'd all pack into one house and I wouldn't sleep. I'd wake up sweating and sometimes in full blown anxiety mode. I was uncomfortable. I was ashamed. I was disappointed that I didn't want to be there; dreading the crazy afternoon of too many people in such a small space trying to eat and talk and open presents; which would then lead to me telling myself what an awful person I was, and thus the circle continued.
Most of that comes from the fact that I don't know what a loving family relationship looks like, and I certainly don't know what an extended family Christmas or Thanksgiving gathering looks like. So the weight to even appear and 'deliver' what they are used to w/in their own family traditions is enough to terrify the shit out of me. I was never really given a free pass to opt-out of my spouse's family gatherings, so I would sit, uncomfortably, at the table or in their living room - 10 seconds away from bursting into terrified tears at any single moment. I would shake and fidget, and clam up...unable to make eye contact...scrutinize every word I said when I DID talk...but (basically) doing anything I could to shrink away and make myself as unnoticeable as I possibly could. And then I would start to worry that someone would see how incredibly uncomfortable I was, and then take offense that I would try to slip away for a moment to myself, which they did.
"Where's your wife? Doesn't she want to have pie with us? Is everything ok with you two?"
Up until this year, I don't think my husband even knew the fear and angst and anxiety I had stirring just under the surface. He just took it at face value that "I don't like this time of year".
Only once since we've been married have we gone to my parent's house for the holidays. My mom wanted to try to get us together 'because she may not be along for much longer and wanted to try to be a family'. The invitation that was dripping in guilt should of been enough of a warning flag for me NOT to buy into it, but I was hopeful. In the end, the dinner was just like being yanked back into my childhood experiences and holiday misery...full of one-up-man-ship from my sister (and her then husband), backhanded compliments from my mother, and a distant father. Even when I tried to compliment how nice the dinner was and how much we appreciated being invited, I was shot down in a hail of negative comments about why I don't come around more often, or that it wasn't good because the lobster was overcooked (oooooh, the power of denial and the power of deflection). I felt ill all the way home and angry that I was stupid enough to think anything could be different than how it's always been.
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At some point, I'd like to start my own traditions, away from family pressures...and with people I choose to have in my life by design, but I don't know where to even start. I don't want my seasonal happiness to depend on everyone else, I want it to be on my terms. I thought this could be the year, but I waited too long out of fear of failure, and pure lack of understanding. I mean, how do you explain the color green to someone who's never seen it? How do you explain what this holiday is about to someone who's never felt that 'magic' everyone talks about?
I really can't say that I'm ever going to enjoy this time of year, unfortunately, but if I can - somehow - take some of it back and make it mine, I may not be as miserable. Of course, that remains to be seen.
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