How I Deal with an Intense Inner World at the Holidays - Part I

In this stage of life, I often find myself saying, "HOW did I ever do this AND have kids in the house?"

It's Christmas Eve, and it's my second Christmas, where only one of three will spend the night. The first Christmas morning, I wake up with none of my children in the house, feels only a breath away. It is our first Christmas sharing one of ours with another family, and I relish any moment our home is full of the energy of youth.

This means I have days and weeks to prep for the magic I still want to provide. Todd and I work on it together, planning out the meals, hanging the lights, and gathering the gifts we love to give. And through it all, I feel the tremors of the emotions that used to feel like tidal waves, daring to take me out. How did I do this before?

Well, I know how I did it before. The journals tell the truth.

I often had meltdowns on December 27th, curling into the fetal position and sobbing while my children wondered what the heck was going on with Mom. One year, I drank too much and was so hungover that I got back in bed after Christmas presents. That was an ugly year. The kids were probably tween-early teens, and I'm sure, even if only subconsciously, they knew. But I didn't understand the power of alcohol back then and guzzled the brandy from the bottle in the bathroom. A little felt great, so more would feel better, right?

But I was "responsible" for choir performances, a Pinterest worthy home, and all the ideals that would transport my family into days of bliss. And I didn’t stop working toward all the ideals I placed on us from the rest of the year. I'm sure they would have instead had their mom centered, but that didn't even cross my mind.

Now I know. My sensitivity and intuition were also in overdrive throughout preparing all the festivities and holding the emotional weight.

Now I know I can affect my intense inner world's LEVEL, but I can't turn it off. Now I know it needs space to be invited to the Christmas season, not sidelined until December 26th. Writing here is part of the HEALTHY ways I can manage the intensity. I even walked the dog this morning, which in our hilly neighborhood is something I still have to make myself do at least every other day. But it helps me stay steady.

Right now, I don't even let myself have a glass of wine with dinner. I'm uneasy about ever drinking in front of my kids again. And yet, I am also scared of returning to the narrow tight box of perfect living. My intense inner life has to be released somehow in a way that makes me feel a little naughty. I even hung a Christmas ornament this year that says so.

How would I have done things differently if I could have? I'm not totally sure. I think I would tell myself to make a list and cross off two-thirds of it. We even remodeled TWO kitchens up to the holidays over ten years. Do you think my plan needed to be shorter? Damn straight.

I would have scheduled a LOT more downtime and let the chips fall where they may—time to stare at the fire and ask myself what I am genuinely feeling. I wish I had a therapist and housecleaner during those days. That's what I really needed.

I wish I'd been able to communicate with my extended family better. Mainly my mom. "Mom, I can't show up at a specific time in a clean car with well-dressed children and all the presents wrapped." I am still unsure what I should have done instead, but our particular brand of suburban Christmas did not include messes. I wish I asked to bring my mess, but I didn’t know how.

This year, with COVID, the only extended family event is happening in my parents' driveway. It only includes cookies and tea and a couple of gifts. I can do that. But then we'll come back to my home, and enjoy our version of ease. This year I don't have to worry about the days they might not come home because I've already had one who hasn't for several years. I've made it to the other side, and I know better how to enjoy this year for what it is.

No matter how I slice it, this time of year brings the feelings. Bittersweet nostalgia is wrapped with sensitivity to all the family dynamics. There are things, I cannot change, especially people. But I can take care of my inner world now. There's space for it. If only I'd known how to do this earlier.

In the meantime, I wonder how I can be a little naughty, too. Thoughts? Wanna come over and play Cards Against Humanity with me?