Most of us have a Christmas memory that is etched in our minds. The best one, the unpleasant one, the comical one, the sad one. Each one can shape our views for future Christmases. Sometimes there is an opportunity to change the direction toward something more meaningful. It took a lot of years for me to see the positive silver lining in what occurred in my life. Like turning eggs into eggnog.December is difficult for me. Gray days and the holidays. Some form of depression returns. I think it is a combination of things. Not much sun and memories. Taking extra Vitamin D3 seems to be helping. Doing more self-care.
Growing up, we always had a Christmas with presents. When I was about 9 or 10, it was different. As always, we received a package from our grandmother. That Christmas Even, my mother asked us if we wanted to open grandma’s present now or in the morning as that is the only present we are getting. We looked at her in disbelief. We have always had presents and stuff in our stocking. We opened up the package containing quilted purple and pink housecoats from grandma. All the same, different sizes. We went to bed, hopeful.
In the morning, we got up to…nothing. Not under the tree, not in our stockings, not anywhere. Every year, we always got the same thing in our stockings. Big peppermint stick, apple, orange, nuts, that ribbon candy. Empty. No explanation. Mother terse. Father was gone, working. I am sure we had a nice dinner. We had food even though we were very poor. I am guessing there was no money that year. My father had a tendency to spend the money for him, got what he wanted when he wanted it (it was a regular occurrence in our lives) which left the rest of us struggling.
This affected me in how I saw gift-giving. When my son was born, I decided that no matter how tight our finances were, no matter how I felt about it, I would always make it a nice Christmas for him. I was very thrifty to make it happen. There wasn’t a lot a presents. We were blessed that a lot of people helped make it a merrier one.
When these kinds of experiences occur, we can learn about choices. We can continue on that old path of thinking that compounds our pain, replaying the old like a tap, recreating similar outcomes and pain. There is the opportunity to change our minds about it. With my son, it became a catalyst for me to make those changes. Creating positive experiences for him helped me to recreate them for me. That one time still has a sting to it. The traces of wondering why my mother could not even try and vowed no matter what, I will always try. My pain ought not to be paid forward. I remember and embrace the reason for this season.
I've Got a Message LLC 