The winter holiday season is difficult for many people who deal with mental illness, addiction, histories of abuse, or grief. For many years, I, too, loathed the holidays. The first Christmas after I returned from England, after having lost everything- my husband, my home, my friends and my country- I was mad with grief and paralyzed with bitterness. I was back at my mother's house, the very last place I wanted to be ever again. My mother simply could not understand why I would not accept her gifts or come out of my room. I remember screaming at her, "Christmas is for people who have families!"
But since Matt has been a part of my life, I feel like I have a family again. Not just his family, but our mutual friends; our chosen family is no less important to me. I have no cause for grief, I have no reason to feel excluded or worried or sad. And so far, this is probably the best holiday season I've had in many years. There were only two gifts under the tree yesterday, but I am living such a rich life. I have a home. I have love. I have everything I need, and more. I'm so grateful.
Yet, gifts are what are causing me anxiety today. On Saturday, we're going to Matt's grandparents' house for the big family Christmas. I love my in-laws, and I can't tell you how happy I am not to have to worry about vicious arguments and tears and people stomping out of the house. That was how Christmas always went when I was a kid. But there is one tradition Matt's family adheres to that makes me very uncomfortable: The Great Present Opening Ceremony. (No, they don't actually call it that.) This ceremony entails everyone sitting around in the living room opening gifts one at a time. Slowly. Agonizingly. Last year, it took three hours. Three hours.
This bothers me for several reasons. First of all, I don't feel that opening gifts should be the central focus of the day. The way it was done, it seemed to me that the presents were the most important thing.
Secondly, it isn't fun. It's done in a very formal fashion, each family member opening one gift at a time, showing it to everyone, thanking the gift-giver, and having pictures taken of them. I don't like being the center of attention for this reason. It makes me really uncomfortable.
Why does everyone have to have a picture taken with every gift they receive? If Matt's mom wants to do that, can't she just wait until everyone has opened all their gifts and take a picture of each person with all the opened presents?
Third, Matt and I haven't had the time or money to get gifts for anyone this year, not even our close friends. Not only that, but Matt's parents and grandparents have given us literally thousands of dollars this year to help us in our time of need. I feel that even if I could have given them something, it would be woefully inadequate. Yes, yes, I know, just my presence and my love and our happiness and safety are gifts enough for them, blah blah blah... but when so much emphasis is put on the opening of actual, material gifts, and gifts from Matt and I become conspicuously absent, well, I think it's going to make me feel like shit.
I'm trying not to dread this, because, as I said, I really do love Matt's family. His grandparents are getting on in years, and, not to be morbid, but I know how important it is to spend these last few Christmases with them. I am going to try to bring some of "me" to the party, with Apples to Apples, a bottle of mead and a drinking horn to pass around. I'm hoping maybe grandpop will let me light a fire in the hearth, and we can sing songs and play games instead of spending hours with the presents. But I don't know how receptive they will be to that.
Anyway, that's it for now. I just needed to get all of that off my chest before we head up there on Saturday.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
Monday, December 9, 2013
I'm home!
I'm happy.
Here I am, sitting in a coffee house in Bexley, having taken the bus from my new apartment this afternoon. It was easier to get here than it was to get to my old haunt when I lived downtown. This afternoon, I explored a bit, and got a library card for the Bexley Public Library. The library is gorgeous. I checked out three books of Old Norse poetry- some interesting bedtime reading. This morning, I took a walk around the apartment complex, reveling in the fact that it was quiet and that I didn't see a single police or emergency vehicle the entire time. I walked near the woods and enjoyed the sound of the creek. This morning, I woke in peace. Last night, I slept well.
I'm home.
There is a lot of unpacking to do yet, but I've already got my room (which is spacious and comfortable, with tons of closet space) pretty much how I want it. A trip to IKEA on Sunday provided new end tables, lamps, and a coffee table, so the living room is actually starting to look like a living room, and not just like a place where we drop our stuff when we come in. Matt worked on the kitchen last night. Though small, it has more storage than our old one, and I'm looking forward to cooking in it. The cats seem to have acclimated just fine, despite the chorus of mournful meowing on the way.
I feel accomplished because I really did as much as I was physically able to do during this move. Last year, I had shut down emotionally, and was pretty much useless. I did still feel like hiding under the bed the whole time, but I pushed through it. I'm actually looking forward to the rest of the unpacking. I've already found things I hadn't seen in over a year because of the hasty nature of our last move and the bedbug insanity. It's like Christmas morning. Seriously.
Radar has his own little shelf on top of a bookcase in my room. Next to his box is a Fenton glass cat my mother gave me for my 18th birthday. I might not be on wonderful terms with my mother, but I always loved that figurine, and I hadn't even seen it since before we moved out of Matt's house last October. On the other side is the selenite crystal ball that has a chip in it from when Radar knocked it over once.
My altar is set up, and I already did a simple ritual to bless the house with prosperity, love and a sense of community. The candle I burned was fully consumed, without a trace of wax or wick left, which I always take to be a good sign. I thanked my gods for their help and guidance throughout the ordeal of moving. It was my second thanks to them. My first was before we had even gotten the apartment for sure. You see, I finally took my therapist's advice, and thanked my gods for boons I had not yet received. I still felt a bit odd about it, but because I knew that Matt and I deserved it, and that we had proven ourselves strong and loving throughout adversity, I didn't think it pretentious. I had the floor plan and the info for the apartment folded up on my altar to signify my intent. I feel grateful, satisfied and accomplished that I was able to manifest my needs and desire in this way. I also felt, as I said goodbye to Radar, that my cat would send an extra-potent message to my gods to help us. I have no doubt that he did.
Matt and I are working towards getting over our bad financial choices. I am now aware, via Google calendar, of every due date of every bill. We are paying more attention to how much we spend on what, and I am asking more questions and being more clear and firm about my wants and needs. I still get a little frustrated sometimes when I say that I want something, and Matt thinks that I want it right now. When he reacts that way, I feel like I am being too demanding, and he feels pressured. I need to figure out how to say "hey, I like this thing" without Matt thinking that it's something I can't wait for or can't live without. Another thing we will have to work on, when the time comes, is a budget that takes into account being paid only once per month. Matt is now salaried, which, on one hand, means no overtime pay; on the other hand, it means our finances are suddenly much more predictable.
All in all, it's been a good week. Matt is dealing with the frustrations of the last few days of his old job while looking forward to starting his new, higher-paying, work-from-home position. Happily, he had some vacation days saved up, and because he's still working for the same company, he's going to have all of Christmas week off. We will really be able to relax and have fun for the holidays, and I'm incredibly thankful for that.
I think we've really turned a corner. I think there will be more good things in the coming year. I'm looking forward to it with an open heart and open arms.
Here I am, sitting in a coffee house in Bexley, having taken the bus from my new apartment this afternoon. It was easier to get here than it was to get to my old haunt when I lived downtown. This afternoon, I explored a bit, and got a library card for the Bexley Public Library. The library is gorgeous. I checked out three books of Old Norse poetry- some interesting bedtime reading. This morning, I took a walk around the apartment complex, reveling in the fact that it was quiet and that I didn't see a single police or emergency vehicle the entire time. I walked near the woods and enjoyed the sound of the creek. This morning, I woke in peace. Last night, I slept well.
I'm home.
There is a lot of unpacking to do yet, but I've already got my room (which is spacious and comfortable, with tons of closet space) pretty much how I want it. A trip to IKEA on Sunday provided new end tables, lamps, and a coffee table, so the living room is actually starting to look like a living room, and not just like a place where we drop our stuff when we come in. Matt worked on the kitchen last night. Though small, it has more storage than our old one, and I'm looking forward to cooking in it. The cats seem to have acclimated just fine, despite the chorus of mournful meowing on the way.
I feel accomplished because I really did as much as I was physically able to do during this move. Last year, I had shut down emotionally, and was pretty much useless. I did still feel like hiding under the bed the whole time, but I pushed through it. I'm actually looking forward to the rest of the unpacking. I've already found things I hadn't seen in over a year because of the hasty nature of our last move and the bedbug insanity. It's like Christmas morning. Seriously.
Radar has his own little shelf on top of a bookcase in my room. Next to his box is a Fenton glass cat my mother gave me for my 18th birthday. I might not be on wonderful terms with my mother, but I always loved that figurine, and I hadn't even seen it since before we moved out of Matt's house last October. On the other side is the selenite crystal ball that has a chip in it from when Radar knocked it over once.
My altar is set up, and I already did a simple ritual to bless the house with prosperity, love and a sense of community. The candle I burned was fully consumed, without a trace of wax or wick left, which I always take to be a good sign. I thanked my gods for their help and guidance throughout the ordeal of moving. It was my second thanks to them. My first was before we had even gotten the apartment for sure. You see, I finally took my therapist's advice, and thanked my gods for boons I had not yet received. I still felt a bit odd about it, but because I knew that Matt and I deserved it, and that we had proven ourselves strong and loving throughout adversity, I didn't think it pretentious. I had the floor plan and the info for the apartment folded up on my altar to signify my intent. I feel grateful, satisfied and accomplished that I was able to manifest my needs and desire in this way. I also felt, as I said goodbye to Radar, that my cat would send an extra-potent message to my gods to help us. I have no doubt that he did.
Matt and I are working towards getting over our bad financial choices. I am now aware, via Google calendar, of every due date of every bill. We are paying more attention to how much we spend on what, and I am asking more questions and being more clear and firm about my wants and needs. I still get a little frustrated sometimes when I say that I want something, and Matt thinks that I want it right now. When he reacts that way, I feel like I am being too demanding, and he feels pressured. I need to figure out how to say "hey, I like this thing" without Matt thinking that it's something I can't wait for or can't live without. Another thing we will have to work on, when the time comes, is a budget that takes into account being paid only once per month. Matt is now salaried, which, on one hand, means no overtime pay; on the other hand, it means our finances are suddenly much more predictable.
All in all, it's been a good week. Matt is dealing with the frustrations of the last few days of his old job while looking forward to starting his new, higher-paying, work-from-home position. Happily, he had some vacation days saved up, and because he's still working for the same company, he's going to have all of Christmas week off. We will really be able to relax and have fun for the holidays, and I'm incredibly thankful for that.
I think we've really turned a corner. I think there will be more good things in the coming year. I'm looking forward to it with an open heart and open arms.
Friday, December 6, 2013
I still haven't cried.
I miss my kitty. I watched him die. I know he's gone. I know I will never scratch him behind the ears again, or hear him mewling piteously in the hallway because he has brought us toys in an effort to get us to play with him when we're asleep. I will never marvel at the thin, silky grace of the tip of his tail, or the wide spread of his large, powerful paws as he kneads on my pillow. There won't be any more funny stories about his antics with the other cats. I know all these things. I dwell on them. Yet, the tears will not come.
I have a few ideas as to why. I think one of the biggest factors is that the move is fast-approaching, and the enormity of that shift has weighed heavily on my subconscious mind. It's a good move, an exciting move, a move that is going to be good for me and Matt for many reasons. That doesn't make the physical act of packing and hauling all of our belongings to a new place any less stressful. I've packed about 3/4 of my worldly goods, which are now sitting in the hallway, and my room feels strange when I lie down to sleep. I feel accomplished for having got this much done so far, but when I look at the rest of the house, I feel overwhelmed. There are boxes and boxes and boxes, and the shoving and the sliding and the hefting and the shifting, and the cleaning after all that is done. Then more of the shoving and sliding and hefting and shifting when we get to the new place, and the cats come last, so they have furniture to hide under until they realise they're safe. I feel like hiding under the bed, myself.
Anyway, I think that, until we are done moving, I won't be able to relax enough to mourn properly, if that makes sense. Radar moved with me at least four times, and it may hit me hard when my head finally wraps around the idea that he really isn't going to be with us in our new home. What helps is that I am aware of this. I know the tears will come, but I'm not fearful of them. I know that I will feel better once I let go. It will probably happen the first time I am alone in the new place, after I have properly appointed my sanctuary and consecrated it as my own.
On a happier note, I have met someone rather amazing. Someone who makes me feel good, and with whom I feel I have much to share. We seem to have so much to say to each other that it's daunting to even know where to begin. I think we might have known each other in another life. No, really, I do. I wasn't expecting this crazy burst of NRE (New Relationship Energy), but it's quite welcome here on the cusp of winter. Significantly for me, she is ... well, a "she." I consider myself pansexual and I am attracted to all sorts of people. Traditionally, though, I have either been so intimidated by females that, if I like them, I turn into a thirteen-year-old heterosexual boy and stumble all over myself, or our personalities just don't mesh at all beyond a few common interests. This is different, and pretty much a first. We'll see where it goes. Matt is happy for me. I will write more about her later.
I have a few ideas as to why. I think one of the biggest factors is that the move is fast-approaching, and the enormity of that shift has weighed heavily on my subconscious mind. It's a good move, an exciting move, a move that is going to be good for me and Matt for many reasons. That doesn't make the physical act of packing and hauling all of our belongings to a new place any less stressful. I've packed about 3/4 of my worldly goods, which are now sitting in the hallway, and my room feels strange when I lie down to sleep. I feel accomplished for having got this much done so far, but when I look at the rest of the house, I feel overwhelmed. There are boxes and boxes and boxes, and the shoving and the sliding and the hefting and the shifting, and the cleaning after all that is done. Then more of the shoving and sliding and hefting and shifting when we get to the new place, and the cats come last, so they have furniture to hide under until they realise they're safe. I feel like hiding under the bed, myself.
Anyway, I think that, until we are done moving, I won't be able to relax enough to mourn properly, if that makes sense. Radar moved with me at least four times, and it may hit me hard when my head finally wraps around the idea that he really isn't going to be with us in our new home. What helps is that I am aware of this. I know the tears will come, but I'm not fearful of them. I know that I will feel better once I let go. It will probably happen the first time I am alone in the new place, after I have properly appointed my sanctuary and consecrated it as my own.
On a happier note, I have met someone rather amazing. Someone who makes me feel good, and with whom I feel I have much to share. We seem to have so much to say to each other that it's daunting to even know where to begin. I think we might have known each other in another life. No, really, I do. I wasn't expecting this crazy burst of NRE (New Relationship Energy), but it's quite welcome here on the cusp of winter. Significantly for me, she is ... well, a "she." I consider myself pansexual and I am attracted to all sorts of people. Traditionally, though, I have either been so intimidated by females that, if I like them, I turn into a thirteen-year-old heterosexual boy and stumble all over myself, or our personalities just don't mesh at all beyond a few common interests. This is different, and pretty much a first. We'll see where it goes. Matt is happy for me. I will write more about her later.
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