I know I've written about tonight's topic in the past, but it's at the top of my mind, so I thought I'd sit down and journal it. Since Mother passed and I don't have her to bounce things off of, putting my thoughts to "paper" always helps me sort things out. The problem is I don't know where to begin.
Do I open with how much I miss our family holiday gatherings? Or do I start with how much I add to my plate year after year?
Everyone, meaning my sisters and their children and me and my family, always went to Mom and Dad's for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. Occasionally Mother would bow to pressure and we'd have the holiday celebration either at my older sister's house or at mine. But no matter where we were, it was fun and we were together. The family is disconnected now. Miles, past arguments, and hurt feelings separate us. However, regardless of what it is that keeps us from being able to come together for the holidays, never more than this time of year do I long for "the old days." Obviously, my parents were the glue that binds, so to speak.
Beginning with the week before Thanksgiving through New Year's Day, I fill all of my time with baking, event planning, going to parties, crafting, attending fundraising events, fulfilling other's dreams, etc. I will do anything to keep from thinking about those "good old days." Anything other than accepting that life brings with it many changes.
Maybe an outsider could have told me this before my own epiphany tonight, but I've realized that the likely reason my calendar, head and heart are so full this time of year is because I'm trying to make up for what's missing -- my parents, my siblings, their children and grandchildren, etc.
Just last weekend, I hosted a dinner party on Friday night, Saturday morning I helped wrap Christmas presents for a local children's agency, Saturday night I went to dinner and the annual Christmas Boat Parade, Sunday morning I helped set up for the annual Toy Run and helped sell event pins to more than 500 bikers, and on Sunday night I went to our office holiday party. In between, I baked cookies for the two cookie exchange parties being held this week. Today I put together our office cookie and gift exchange, and tonight I finished up baking my eighth cookie recipe. While they were baking, I was wrapping gifts for the seniors being served by the Council on Aging. Thursday night I will host our monthly craft night with 18 of us attending. I'll have dinner, two crafts ready to go, gifts for everyone and other fun stuff. Saturday is my husband's civic club's holiday party, and Sunday it's off to Orlando for a late brunch with my younger sister.
In my quest to fill the gap with pleasing others, I've missed some special quiet times with my husband -- something of which I should have been acutely aware, but instead was totally oblivious to.
It's while the cookies were baking and I was wrapping the blankets and jewelry for the senior citizens tonight that I had my mini-breakdown, crying to my husband and saying that I just want the world to stop and let me get off. "Pick me up later," I said. "Much later."
I spread myself so thin that I don't sleep, I don't eat properly, I don't get any exercise, and I don't really care about much of anything; all for the sake of sanity? I don't think so. I think it's actually weighing very heavy on me and taking a toll.
We shared in a wonderful Thanksgiving this year, traveling with our son and his wife to Virginia to spend time with my husband's sister and her family. For me, there's just nothing better than being with our son and daughter-in-law. But there I go again, expecting other's to feel the same way I do, expecting them to place the same importance in being with me that I have placed in being with them.
Life doesn't work that way. Along with still mourning the loss of my mother, I also mourn the loss of what I always considered to be what the holidays were all about -- family togetherness.
I have to find another way to cope with the losses I've encountered as life throws her punches (some of which I will never mention in this journal). I can't continue to spread myself this thin and continue to "be there" for everyone else; ignoring what's really going on inside of me. I have to find balance.
It's too late for this year, but I hope that by this time next year, I've mastered the art of saying no to a few others and the art of saying yes to my husband. Perhaps I can find peace amid the chaos.
I love and miss you Mom and Dad. Merry Christmas!
