According to movies, TV, social media, & fairy tales,
traditional family holiday get togethers transform magically into warm and
loving events no matter how everyone behaves the rest of the year. Hard as
I rack my brain, all I can remember is a lot of tension and stress, no magic!
The worst ever, occurred after my stepmother moved in. Her relatives
from another state always came during a holiday and it fell on us to entertain
them. I complained to Dad that I wished they'd pick another time to visit. Life
was stressful enough under this woman and company only exacerbated the
situation. He knew that was true, but SHE
ran the show now!
I was in my 40's at the time and living out in the
guesthouse which unfortunately didn't have a kitchen. Other than holidays, I
cooked and ate all my meals separately from theirs. And I was constantly
changing my mealtimes to accommodate them.
I offered to do this at those holiday dinners as well, but
was told her relatives would be insulted if I did.
For those meals, the middle board was added into the table.
Still, there was no room for me. I sat out in the Florida room at a card table,
my back to them as I gazed out toward the river. It was a mile wide behind our
house. In social circles this is called being banished to Siberia. However it
didn't feel like Siberia to me. In my mind, this was my private island opposite
the crowded, noisy, polluted city on the shore across from me.
However I wanted to nuke that city because its noise and
pollution wafted over onto my island!
Before my stepmother moved in, holiday dinners were nothing
more than just another big meal, and often a rather depressing one. One of my
step-mom's big complaints about my father was that he expected a holiday dinner
every night.
Finally, my prayers were answered and my stepmother moved
out! She took her damn table along with other furniture she'd brought into our
home. We had only ONE dining table in that house. Dad was uncomfortable at the folding
card table so we had to find something else fast.
We went to a consignment store that sold merchandise we
liked. Dad bought an old Florida style table that went perfectly with our
tropical themed house. I don't remember our last Christmas there, but I recall that
Thanksgiving well. Dad had just been released from the hospital the day before
after undergoing a triple bypass after a heart attack.
I went to great lengths to make that dinner special
for him and all he did was criticize and complain. Nothing I did was ever good
enough. It seemed a waste of effort even to try. This only seemed to worsen
after we moved into this house just months later.
Shortly after his death, I went to a salon to have my hair
dyed red. -- A color he hated! This was right before the holidays. I mentioned
to the beautician that it was going to feel weird celebrating the holidays
alone from now on.
"Aren't you ever going to get married?" she asked.
I told her I had no aspirations in that direction. She paused
to stare at me in disbelief; her brain simply could not grasp such a concept.
"There is absolutely no way I would ever be alone!" she stated emphatically.
How pathetic to be
that emotionally needy, I thought.
But then I'm asexual. (Yes we do exist!) I've been lectured often,
by many, to at least give men a chance. Actually I've given them plenty of
chances! I've had boyfriends! But I was never happy in those relationships. However
I was thrilled when they were over and out of my life.
I've spent a number of holiday meals with friends, sometimes
with their relatives included. And always I found myself wishing I was at home,
alone. It was just too much people overload for me! It felt like trying to
breathe under plastic. And it never felt like MY holiday, I was just part of
theirs. Others have always been a poor judge of my needs.
My neighbors on the south side are ones I actually like. For
several Christmases I was invited over with them and extended family. I know
they thought they were being kind and doing me a favor, but they actually
weren't. I've never been the type who gets lonely, except when surrounded by
other people. Finally, I told them politely, "Please don't invite me
again."
I was telling my friend Rose about this and added,
"Thank you from the bottom of my heart for never inviting me to spend a
holiday with you and your family. I truly appreciate it!"
"I know you too well," she replied. "And I
know how much you enjoy your solitude."
I wanted to throw my arms heavenward and holler,
"Hallelujah! Finally, someone understands!"
At long last, I can forget all that misery in the past and
forge my own holiday traditions. Ones filled with the things that I enjoy. No
more stress, only joy, plus the serene and sublime. My holidays actually feel magical,
now. (Sigh!)
