This time of year holiday stress and depression go hand in hand. What causes the stress? In my experience, it can come from a lot of different angles.
Christmas time is usually the time when you have to tolerate family reunions with people that don’t give a rat’s a$$ about you any other time of the year. They get together not because they have any desire to see you and celebrate the holiday, but because they feel an obligation to. To me this is just bull$hit. If you aren’t good enough to bother with the rest of the year, you don’t need to bother at Christmas either. These same bunches of dysfunctional folks thrive on chaos and only bother to invite you because they feel it is the Christian thing to do. In my opinion, I would rather pass on these gatherings where I feel like the bastard at the family reunion: unwanted and scorned. Unfortunately, as much as they feel obligated to invite, you feel obligated to attend because it is family and by all that is holy it is Christmas. The result is that conversation is stilted and the atmosphere is about as comfortable and welcoming as a broom shoved up you’re a$$ sideways. I realize that some families enjoy each other’s company and look forward to and enjoy the holidays together. I am happy to say that as far as my own little family of four, we fall in the later category.
Let’s face it, one of the biggest stress causes in my book during the holidays is stretching money to cover all the added extra expense of Christmas plus pay the bills. When you live paycheck to paycheck, the money situation can be a real challenge. Amazingly enough, somehow Christmas always comes and is just as joyous as the year before. There is the running around trying to find the best prices on the gifts and making that almighty dollar go a little farther. I felt blessed this year to have my husband home to do our Christmas shopping. There have been some years he hasn’t been. There have even been some years where he had to leave on Christmas day and we scrambled around trying to fit everything in on Christmas Eve.
When I was younger Christmas’s were hectic and stressful as we rushed from one relative’s house to the next. It was stressful making sure we had everything we needed to have for each place over and above all the running around. While I miss the people that have died over the years and getting together to share Christmas with each of them, I don’t miss all the running here and there frenzy. I have found I enjoy staying home with my husband and kids opening presents, enjoying a special lunch, then feasting on a dinner fit for a king, while playing with all the kids new toys. While I am still the perfectionist I have always been, I have mellowed with age and feel I enjoy Christmas even more when it finally comes.
Christmas can be an overwhelming and stressful time, but it can also be happy and joyous. This year it offers more together time with my kids and husband that I not only eagerly look forward to, but that I intend to enjoy and savor until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
Everyone has that one song that when they hear it produces an avalanche of poignant memories from the past. Since this prompt was posted I have racked my brains for the one song that produced that reaction in me. After much analyzing, I have finally chosen one. With Christmas only a little over a week away it seems only fitting that I choose “Silent Night”.
“Silent Night” was one of the first carols that I learned growing up. Sure I loved “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” and “Frosty the Snowman” but it wasn’t till much later that I got the words memorized. From grade school through my early twenties I was involved singing in a choir. There was never a Christmas season that went by that singing “Silent Night” wasn’t on the agenda. It was the song that the choir would file into auditoriums singing in the darkness while holding a single candle. It was always so cool!! Over the years my voice went from a first soprano to an alto and because my voice lowered in register as I aged I got to learn virtually all the female singing parts of this particular song.
When my babies were born I always would rock them to sleep singing this song. It was a song I can easily sing. It seemed as appropriate as “Rock a Bye Baby” to use as a lullaby and I always did. I would snuggle my precious bundle close and sing the melody of every single verse.
It remains to this day to be the one song I don’t need sheet music to play on the piano. I remember exactly how to play it and can play most of it from memory. I would spend hours at my piano (when I had one), playing Christmas carols during the holiday season always beginning with “Silent Night” and finishing with “Silent Night”. It is a song that brings me peace. The year my Grandma died two days before Christmas, it was the song that would bring tears as it continued to soothe.
Just yesterday I was thrilled to hear my daughter play “Silent Night” perfectly on her acoustic guitar. I found a free website online that had free tabs for just about every Christmas carol you could imagine. Inspired she huddled over my laptop and played each and every one that caught her fancy until her fingertips hurt. Then she copied down the tabs carefully to add to her growing library of songs she can effortlessly play. As my life continues I am sure that the strains of “Silent Night” will continue to mark it and intertwine with my memories until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
The following is a fictional story I wrote in response of the BFF photo prompt for this week. I hope you enjoy it.
Diana awoke to find herself in the middle of a long hallway. The floors were tiled in white and black. She stood up, grabbed her best friend Bear, and made her way along it. It seemed to stretch on forever. The end of the hallway glowed with an inviting light. She knew instinctively that she needed to find out what was at the end of the long hall. She had no clue where she would end up but she was dying to find out. In her excitement, she broke into a run. Finally she came to the end where two doors stood side by side.
How curious she thought. Each door had a sign. One was labeled “Dreams” and the other “Reality”. A clock hung on the wall in between ticking in time with her heart beat. She puzzled over which door to choose. Certainly she could visit both, right? If she visited both she could decide which world she preferred. The question was which would she visit first and where would she decide to remain. What did she dream her life to be? She wished to be blissfully happy of course and married to none other than Prince Charming living in a big fairytale castle far, far away but what else did she dream? Would she dream to be a famous movie star, talented artist, or a skilled surgeon? In her dreams would she be filthy rich? Certainly all those dreams would be preferable to what reality would hold in store for her. Reality was an unknown and while it could hold happiness, it could also hold despair. There would be no guarantees if she chose reality. She started for the door of dreams, but a nagging sensation held her back. Again she contemplated both doors. What if her dreams took on a horrific twist and resembled a nightmare more than the happily ever after she had envisioned? What if she went through the door of dreams and found herself in a twisted world where nothing made sense, much as Alice did when she fell down the rabbit hole.
Diana moved closer to reality. What did she really want in life? Did she want the perfect fairy tale? Well of course! Everyone did! Confused she stepped closer to the land of dreams only to be stopped by misgivings once again. Did she really want to throw herself into a world where nothing ever made sense and things were never as they seemed? Did she want to take the chance that what lied behind the door of dreams was the culmination of wishes and happiness instead of confusion and terror?
Her mind made up she purposefully took the path to reality. She chose to live her life as it came, enjoying each day and counting her blessings in each one instead of living with her head in the pink, fluffy clouds of dreamland. She chose to accept that life wouldn’t be perfect; but that she would develop strength, courage, and wisdom the longer she remained in reality. At least in reality, everything would eventually make sense if only in hindsight. The door of dreams beckoned like a forbidden fruit dangling enticingly in front of her. No, she would not take it. Look what happened to Adam and Eve when they ate the forbidden fruit!! She would follow destiny’s path and learn the lessons in life she was meant to. There was also that feeling of foreboding that overwhelmed her whenever she stepped closer to the land of dreams that scared her into believing that whichever door she chose was a final choice. She feared she would never be able to return to the hall of decision once she crossed the threshold of either door. The clock between the two doors chimed.
She knew instinctively that her time to choose was running out. A chill of terror crept up her spine as she raced for the door of reality, flung the door open and rushed inside. The door slammed shut behind her and soon she was falling. She landed in a heap in her very own bed drenched in sweat. The overhead light illuminated as her mother rushed in and quickly gathered her in her arms.
“Diana, are you all right? You were crying out in your sleep! Shhh, Mommy‘s here. It was just a dream!” she said as she held Diana close and smoothed the curls on her sweaty brow. Diana burrowed into the loving embrace of her Mother relieved she had chosen the door that led her home.
When I was a kid it was tradition for my family to wake up at 5:00 am Christmas morning to see what Santa had brought. My sister and I were so filled with excitement for the surprises of Christmas morning that we couldn’t wait to get the party started. My Dad insisted that no one would have Christmas before 5:00 am. That was law, as written in stone as any rule could ever be. My sister and I would set our alarm clocks and as soon as that first blast from the clock roused us from sleep, we raced out to the living room to see if Santa had in fact come. The bulging stockings would seem to magically sparkle. Once Santa’s arrival had been confirmed, we raced to my parent’s room to wake them.
It used to drive us crazy how my dad in particular took his sweet a$$ time getting out of bed and ready for opening presents Christmas morning. He knew how excited we were. He would stumble into the bathroom and stay in there so long you would swear he had fallen in. How can a person honestly sit on the toilet and meditate while taking a $hit on Christmas morning knowing your kids were biting at the bit to get to those presents? I mean, drop your load, wipe, and hurry the hell up!! Santa had been there for crying out loud! He always took his time. The door would open with a blast of foul smelling air that he had tried to camouflage with Old Spice as he sauntered out to the kitchen right past the presents like he didn’t have a care in the world. Once there he would start the coffee maker and we would have to wait until he had his first cup of coffee. In the time it took him to move his bowels and fill up with his morning dose of caffeine my mother had managed to dress and join us in our impatient vigil staring at the bounty that awaited us to open.
My sister and I always phoned my Grandma first thing in the morning to wish her a Merry Christmas and in turn tell her what we had gotten for Christmas. Even
though we always celebrated Christmas with her a few hours later with breakfast and more gifts, it was tradition to make the call. We would tear through our Christmas stockings and gifts, and then rush out to the hall phone to make our annual call. My sister being the oldest dialed the number and then held out the receiver. It rang once, twice, three times, and then after the fourth ring Grandma picked up. Before she could even say hello, we screamed “Merry Christmas Grandma!!!” at the top of our lungs. The only problem was it wasn’t Grandma. A very annoyed male voice demanded “Who the hell is this?” Oh my G0d!! It wasn’t Grandma! With eyes the size of saucers my sister hung up the phone. Several seconds passed in silence as we stared at each other with our jaws dropped and our hands up on our mouths in dismay. We both screamed and ran into the living room laughing hysterically. After that, my sister was afraid to dial the phone again and insisted my mom call Grandma. The second phone call was met with a quieter Merry Christmas from the both of us and a full retelling of what we had done peppered with giggles.
It could have only been a little after 6 in the morning when we roused that random guy out of his snug bed to scream in his ear that Christmas. I bet he was wondering why. In retrospect, while he couldn’t have appreciated our holiday cheer and exuberance at the butt crack of dawn at least we didn’t wake him out of a deep sleep blasting profanity in his ear. That would have been unforgivable until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
Christmas time is usually the time when you have to tolerate family reunions with people that don’t give a rat’s a$$ about you any other time of the year. They get together not because they have any desire to see you and celebrate the holiday, but because they feel an obligation to. To me this is just bull$hit. If you aren’t good enough to bother with the rest of the year, you don’t need to bother at Christmas either. These same bunches of dysfunctional folks thrive on chaos and only bother to invite you because they feel it is the Christian thing to do. In my opinion, I would rather pass on these gatherings where I feel like the bastard at the family reunion: unwanted and scorned. Unfortunately, as much as they feel obligated to invite, you feel obligated to attend because it is family and by all that is holy it is Christmas. The result is that conversation is stilted and the atmosphere is about as comfortable and welcoming as a broom shoved up you’re a$$ sideways. I realize that some families enjoy each other’s company and look forward to and enjoy the holidays together. I am happy to say that as far as my own little family of four, we fall in the later category.
Let’s face it, one of the biggest stress causes in my book during the holidays is stretching money to cover all the added extra expense of Christmas plus pay the bills. When you live paycheck to paycheck, the money situation can be a real challenge. Amazingly enough, somehow Christmas always comes and is just as joyous as the year before. There is the running around trying to find the best prices on the gifts and making that almighty dollar go a little farther. I felt blessed this year to have my husband home to do our Christmas shopping. There have been some years he hasn’t been. There have even been some years where he had to leave on Christmas day and we scrambled around trying to fit everything in on Christmas Eve.
When I was younger Christmas’s were hectic and stressful as we rushed from one relative’s house to the next. It was stressful making sure we had everything we needed to have for each place over and above all the running around. While I miss the people that have died over the years and getting together to share Christmas with each of them, I don’t miss all the running here and there frenzy. I have found I enjoy staying home with my husband and kids opening presents, enjoying a special lunch, then feasting on a dinner fit for a king, while playing with all the kids new toys. While I am still the perfectionist I have always been, I have mellowed with age and feel I enjoy Christmas even more when it finally comes.
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