Did
you ever notice those words share many of the same letters? During the season when we are supposed to be
joy-filled, why is it that I sometimes feel blue? I love the planning, the anticipation,
finding the perfect gift for someone on your list who won’t expect it, the feel
of my house decorated and cozy, the glow of the lights on the tree etc. It is like living in a little surreal bubble
for a while (I would say snow globe, but I live in Texas!). But the actual
event itself leaves me a little blue and disappointed no matter how hard I
decide this year will be different.
My
reasons are not hard. My father died
when I was 13 and holidays were never the same after that. The traditions just a little different, the
locations changed, and always something missing that would never be there again. Don’t get me wrong, we celebrated, there was
laughter, family get-togethers and lots of fun, but somewhere deep in a corner
of my soul it hurt.
I
did a good job of avoiding the holidays for over a decade. Being an unmarried nurse, it was easy to work
those holiday shifts so my colleagues could be with their families. So for all but two Christmases from age 21 –
35, I worked. There is something sacred and
special about sharing a holiday with docs, nurses, patients, police and firefighters. It actually gave me peace. One of the ER docs I worked with used to
write “LOC” as a diagnosis on some of the patient’s charts. No, it didn’t mean Loss of Consciousness,
Laxative of Choice or any other medical abbreviation. It meant Lonely on Christmas. It was for those folks who were seeking a warm
touch, a hot meal, a bit of human connection to ease whatever pain it was they
suffered. That pain was unlikely from an
ailment (and they typically had many) but more often from a place in their soul
that hurt a bit more on a holiday. I
could relate.
When
I left the hospital and started working for a healthcare IT shop I found myself
with 2 weeks off nearly every holiday.
No diversion now! I met my
husband a year or so later and the holidays became filled with other people’s
traditions, memories and stories. So fun
to hear it all and I was welcomed to be there, but I couldn’t truly experience
any of the lore and “good ole days” they spoke of. Somewhat like watching slides of someone else’s
vacations perhaps?
Fast
forward a few years and we have a child; time to establish our own traditions. The first of which was that Santa came to our
house. We weren’t going to haul kids
anywhere on Christmas night. I love
that decision; it was a step towards creating a “new” holiday that was “ours”. Those mornings we have shared have been the
best part of the holidays for me. We get
to weave what our traditions will be; we have a bit of his, hers and ours; and
watching the kids’ excitement is genuine joy for me. Christmas eve, Christmas day, Christmas week –
we cram the rest in with those friends and family who are near. I listen to other’s stories, raise a glass
with their traditions, attempt to relive some of mine, unwrap the gifts that
abound; and try to put on my happy face.
Those times are always a hodge-podge of joy, pain, happiness, sadness,
closeness, severe distance, worry, fear that my kids will not behave as
expected and sometimes still, even disdain that I still don’t have “mine”.
But
this year I have changed. I am trying to
find my own truth and calling. Going
through the motions of the season seems flat and that deep pain in my soul seems
closer than ever. But the pain is not
for my childhood holidays or memories, but for authenticity. Perhaps the commercialism and the abundance
have worn thin? Would all this “joy” of
giving (things to people who need nothing) be better served with something more
important?
The
best part of this holiday season for me was in "presence" not "presents". My younger brother and I decided our kids did
not need to rip though another set of the endless gifts they receive. We gave up lovely presents, wrapped in
beautiful paper that would be cast aside within minutes of being opened, for an
evening of bowling, laser tag and pool! I am 100% confident that they have no idea who got them what in the past
5 years for Christmas, but I have that same confidence they will remember
blasting their cousins, aunt and uncle, and mom in laser tag; they will
remember learning how to play pool (even if my lovely, perfectionist daughter
hated that she wasn’t a pro on her first shot!); they will remember video motor cycle races with
their cousins; they will remember learning some pool tips from my brother; and
they will remember who had the highest bowling score! They will remember that JOY!
And
on that night my heart didn’t hurt, I didn’t feel melancholy, and I felt
connected to those I was with. It felt
real. There were others in my family whose holiday’s were spent in the ER, on
bed rest, getting medical procedures, with a spouse who was home for just a
brief stint, on a beach, missing their spouse who was working a shift, suffering
their burdens silently, having a Christmas dinner with most of their family
absent and more I am sure I don’t know. For all of these situations, no gift can make
it better.
So, fondly remember the days of yore, consider less commercialism, and perhaps find
your joy in authentic moments with those you love. I know that is my plan from now on.
Patricia
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