The Holidays and Humbug Me

A couple of weeks ago, I was going to write a different kind of Thanksgiving blog.  A story that is honest and gives a little more insight into the real me.  As most of you know if you read my post about my nephew, Zach, then you understand why there was a delay, but here we are a few weeks later, and now there is even more reason to write this.  To bring some enlightenment to what is real and why we all need to be more aware of what is going on around us and in the real world.  Why for some of us, the holidays are difficult. 

My feelings of melancholy have nothing to do with not being thankful or grateful because I am blessed with a great life in spite of all I have endured, and I know it.  Just having a roof over one’s head, food on the table and lots of love around you, is ‘a wonderful life.’  Just like the movie tells us.  I count my blessings all the time, but I am not a big fan of the holidays.  I don’t remember when I ever was.  The celebrations will come and go, but I am usually looking forward to December 26th.  

It was my job to make Christmas happy for my children, so I fought the underlying sadness when my kids were small.  To this day, no matter what gift anyone gives me, I won’t be happy.  I will say thank you and pretend; sometimes I don’t do a great job pretending, but every year I will put the gifts under the tree and not look at them again for a few days or until the tree gets taken down.  It isn’t about the gift.  I’m not really looking at it. 

Going back a bit …

When I was divorcing my 2nd husband, I went to see a therapist.  The plan was for us to go together, but he wouldn’t go since he thought he had no problems. I figured I would still go and see what happens.  Somewhere along the line, the therapist and I discussed the fact that I did not have many happy memories growing up.

I know they existed, but I can only remember the bad stuff.  The sexual abuse when I was little, the fighting between my parents, and different deaths, I do remember.  I also remember the holidays always being marred by drunk relatives.  

Childhood Christmas Memories

Until I was about 15, we would go to my Aunt and Uncles house in Trumbull, CT.  The day would start well but always end badly.  Sometime during the antipasto, my uncle would start to get ornery.  He would pick on my Nana all the time because he thought he was funny.  My Aunt would go along with it, possibly to keep the peace?  I don’t know.  Ultimately, their sons would take the brunt of it.  Uncle Gene would take a swing or slap them, they would be humiliated or cry, and dinner would go on or not, depending on the altercation’s severity.  He would ultimately pass out in a chair in the living room or the family room.  

My Aunt would yell at her kids like it was their fault while her husband would demean his children in front of everyone.  Thinking back, I am sure it was some sort of a protective measure – my mom felt she was abused too. Over the years as we got older and my cousins grew, the holidays became more violent.  They didn’t necessarily have to take it anymore, and my older cousin started fighting back.  

The last Christmas I remember being there was when I was about 15. 

In the usual fashion, my Uncle Gene was drinking and eventually went after my cousin, Michael.  This particular time, it was so bad that my mother went after my uncle to keep him away from his son.  Gene physically pushed my mother out of the way.

 My brother, Ed, who was 18, saw this, grabbed my uncle, and put him in a headlock.  At that time, he realized my uncle had a gun on him and somehow took it away.   All hell was breaking loose, and I remember wondering if my brother was going to kill him or was my uncle was going to kill my cousin, who had taken off.  My mother yelled at all of us to get our coats and get in the car.  That was the last holiday we ever spent there.  Thank God!  

More reasons for the Holiday Humbug

 My parents had separated when I was 11, so my father was not with us much on holidays.  He was invited because my mother felt it was the right thing to do, but we never knew whether he would show up or not.  Mom always worked hard and did the best she could, but she had 4 kids with no financial or emotional support and times were very difficult.  My father and I had a tumultuous relationship, as I mentioned in my racism blog.

 I can remember one Thanksgiving my father was supposedly coming.  Our phone rang and when I answered it was somebody named Diane.  This Diane raised her voice and informed me that my father had told her mother that he was supposed to spend the holiday with them, but he canceled at the last minute to eat dinner with us.

 What was I supposed to do with that?  I was 16 and never heard of this woman.  Obviously, my father had a girlfriend, and this was her daughter.  I did hang up and told my mother.  When my father came, I yelled at him and threw him out of the apartment.   

That was also the first year in a string of years that I spent Thanksgiving over the toilet bowl.  Thanksgiving Eve was the famous drunk fest with my friends – I was happy to be hungover, so I didn’t have to deal with the holiday. 

Marriage & the Holidays

Flash forward, I was on my second marriage, and my husband replaced my Uncle.  Holidays revolved around drinking.  He didn’t beat the crap out of his kids, but the guy was always hammered.  A stumbling mess and nasty, but I was grateful if he was there. 

Every year we would either go to my mother’s for Thanksgiving dinner, or I would have it.  Either way, I never knew when my husband would get there. 

In our city, every Thanksgiving was the Annual Turkey Bowl.  White Plains High School football played their rival Catholic HS called Stepinac.  My very dear friend and her husband would always have an open house for breakfast on Thanksgiving morning, and then whoever wanted could walk to the football game. It was like having a high school reunion every year.  I loved it and looked forward to seeing my friends.  

We would go to my friends, eat breakfast, and he would go to the game.  If the weather was great, I would take the kids.  Most times, it wasn’t, and I would hang back at the house and help clean up.  I don’t even think anyone realized that I never actually drank.  

Although I went and looked forward to it every year, it never ended well.  Maybe I thought the next year would be different?  Anyway, I would go to my mom’s with the kids or go home and get ready to entertain.  He would stay at the game and drink.  He always came back drunk and belligerent … if he came home. 

One year, in particular, I went home, set the table, and my guests started coming.  Where is he?  We didn’t have cell phones.  I would have to wait it out.  I had heard from other people who came by that he was at the bars.  He would usually make it home right on time for dinner, but not this time.  I tried to hold out and make excuses like always, but I could only wait so long.  This time he came at the end of dinner.  I would still pretend for my kids that it was ok, but it wasn’t.  It was Thanksgiving, and this is what he did.  For everyone else, he was a fun drunk.  For me, he was abusive; and a nasty SOB.  

Current Holiday

I am struggling this Christmas, as I do through all of them.  The tree is undecorated and not even a stocking has made it out of the boxes.  I know  it’s PTSD coupled with the death of my sister in law at Thanksgiving and now the recent suicide of my nephew. 

 Christmas is at our house,  so I will keep myself overbusy and stressed out, but I will get through and be looking forward to December 26th because I have the day off.  I will put on my best face and push forward because I do have the strength.  I have to for my family who now has another reason to be sad during the holidays.  When somebody asks, I will tell everyone ‘I am good’ because it isn’t about me.   When I look around a room, I am sure I will SEE happiness, but FEEL the underlying sadness or maybe it’s just my own.

Final Thoughts

Tears come from the heart and not from the head … I understand this quote.  In my head, I understand that I should be grateful and feel blessed.  I have a wonderful family, we are healthy, happy with a warm home and food on the table.  I should be absolutely joyous during the holidays!  But I am not.  The ghosts from the past are always underlying.  I wish I could shake it – I am strong enough to get through, but my heart is heavy.  I can’t reason with my heart, it feels what it feels. 

It is not my intention to depress anyone.  I am thrilled for the people that are genuinely happy and love the holidays, but I am asking you to have some compassion and spread that joy to those less fortunate … to be kind.  That is the true spirit of Christmas. The giving of oneself, the acts of kindness for those less fortunate.  The understanding and compassion for those who may not feel the same way.  

It is my fervent wish that I will be able to write a different kind of blog next year.  Having friends around me, seeing their smiles and feeling their hugs goes a long way to helping me feel better so I can guarantee the people who have it so much worse than me need the smiles and acts of kindness.

If there is one thing that you can do, please keep giving out hugs – hugs are free, and I think they are the best remedy for anything that ails you.  

Here is my Christmas card and story of faith.

Much Love Always 

Sandy

#enlighten #inspire #educate and please always #BeKind especially during the holidays.