Acknowledgment and Being Seen

I’ve been working hard at being friendlier and more outgoing to people. These days I often take the initiative to be the one to speak first. I chat at the cashiers and baggers at stores and other customers in lines. I say lots of thank you and please. I’m trying to come out of my shyness and offer kindness and friendliness to others. Most of the time, people are friendly right back.

I’m not perfect. I can easily be turned off by a negative comment or even if I feel someone looks at me with judgment. I get peeved when cashiers and baggers carry on a conversation with each other and ignore the customers. I can be in a bit of a bad mood or in a hurry and forget the importance of being friendly. I can be so wrapped up in my own stuff that my world becomes narrow. I understand that others have their own stories and issues in life, too. 

I’m working on this for myself and to help others.  I know how I feel when someone gives me a smile or offers a kind word. I am happy when others take the time to talk to me. Yes, when someone is working, I can’t carry on a full conversation, but the few seconds it takes to exchange a little camaraderie can mean a lot to someone.

The other day I was in a store where the cashier, a guy probably a good two feet taller than I, just stared over my head or off to the side. He didn’t smile. He had to call someone over to handle a problem with my gift card and, after the transaction was complete (with him never once looking at me), he never even offered a bag for my items until I started to pick them up, then he grunted, “Wanna bag?” I snapped back, “Not now and thank you for being friendly and smiling.”

I think I was in shock because usually the people there are so friendly and helpful. A woman helped me find what I needed and made suggestions. She asked what I did for art work and acted as if she knew me. That’s the kind of service that is enjoyable and makes you want to go back to that store.

But I ended up walking out of the store feeling angry at the cashier. He made me feel invisible, like I didn’t matter. I was grumbling to myself about why people get jobs working with people when they are not people-friendly and why management hires these kinds of people to work with their customers. Yes, I realize he was probably very unhappy about something in his life.

And I realize I had an attitude about the situation, too. I didn’t try to be friendly to him – course it’s hard to be friendly to a stone-face staring over your head. Still, I didn’t try. It’s hard, too, when other people are in line waiting. I think of things I could have said in hindsight.

Last night I was reading “Greatly Daring” by Brene Brown. Brown said in many of her interviews, people who are in service-related jobs often feel invisible, taken for granted. They often feel they are treated as a thing, not a human-being. 

How ironic this comes up after I had that incident in the store. It’s funny because Annette and I have been talking about giving and receiving. She always makes cookies during the Christmas season and will take some to the post office workers, fire and police department personnel, and others who perform a service for the public.

The lesson here is to remember that we are all human beings and human beings need connectedness – connection to other people. Yet we get so wrapped up in our own issues, we forget how important it is to acknowledge everyone around us. A simple smile or a nod is sometimes enough. A kind word will often elicit kindness in return. Something so simple can make someone’s day.

Making New Christmas Memories

So after the past few days of tears and grieving for Christmases past, I am ready to make new memories. Talking about that grief lifted a huge weight from my shoulders. I am surprised how good I feel this morning. (I know, I have the month of December to go, but I feel I made a great break through. It still won’t be easy. I can do it and, do it well!)

The neighbors across the street put up more lighted decorations yesterday and their place looks great. I want lights, too, especially now that I have a cute farmer’s porch to make pretty. Colored lights bring me joy. I loved my summer solar lights – brought inside for the winter as they are not receiving enough sunlight. Now it’s time for holiday lights.

I threw out many big boxes of Christmas decorations when I moved; all the old lights, ornaments, and garland of the past 20 years along with a four-foot tree. (I had a lot of stuff!) I kept only a couple of small items and a fake wreath. I don’t regret getting rid of the old. It’s one thing to have nice memories, but I don’t need a constant reminder of what was. It’s time for changes.

Now I have to buy new decorations – not a lot. Maybe I’ll even get a small tree for inside. I ordered a few things online and I’m eagerly awaiting their arrival. Small steps, as right at this moment, I am still planning on spending Christmas day alone. Still, I can surround myself with beauty. That I can do.

Being around others on Christmas day will take a lot of courage and I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet. The last thing I’d want to do is to have a meltdown in front of grandchildren. I don’t feel comfortable around excited, happy people on this day. But I’m getting better.

I really am making new Christmas memories.

Grieving for Christmases Past

I’ve been an emotional wreck these past three days. For three days, I’ve spent the mornings dissolved in tears; my heart ripped open bleeding more tears into my soul, and my head pounding from the stress. 

I’ve struggled with the holidays since my mother’s passing in 2011, but this year it sneaked up on me. I thought I was OK. This is my second holiday season in a house that does not have memories of her (except for her picture which I keep close by where she can watch me working). I have a lot going on and I keep happily busy.

Thanksgiving morning it hit me as I wondered if my sons would call to wish me a happy day. I’m usually the one to call them first, but on holidays, I would like them to call me. My oldest messaged to wish me a happy day and somehow that set me to thinking about past holidays and how, since my mother passed away, I choose to isolate.

Today it dawned on me that my vision of Christmas morning is of our house in Kensington with the tree in front of the picture window and sparkly garland tacked around the main living spaces. Presents (we always went overboard at Christmas) would extend from under the tree, to in front of the TV and fireplace, into corners of the living room. I picture my dad standing tall in his green, black, and white plaid flannel shirt, my brother and his wife, and the aunts and uncles. Mum and I would be in the kitchen getting dinner ready; the aromas of roasting turkey and various vegetables and more wafting through the house. And my sons would show up with wives and grandkids. 

Christmas was basically the same year after year – it was Christmas. It had been that way since I was young and Don and I were the only kids. But changes came as changes do. The older people started leaving one by one. My mum and I tried to carry on, but others wanted their own Christmas celebrations at their own homes on Christmas day. Yes, we were invited, but mum was stubborn and would not leave the house and I guess I’ve picked up that same trait.

So, five years after my mother’s passing, I realize I’m not just grieving losing her (and having her pass on Christmas Day!), I’m grieving for all our Christmases past ... because they can never be the same. I have total respect for other family members making their own choices. I certainly make my choices and stand by them. 

There’s no going back. New Christmas memories need to be made and while I may still choose to be alone Christmas day, today I have a better understanding of the grief encompassing me around the holidays. I’m getting better. 

A Holiday Revelation and Yet Another Issue to Work On

After five years since my mother’s passing, and more, really because there were the years of decline, the holidays are still tough for me. I’ve been blaming it on my mother’s passing, but wait ... it really started when both my sons decided they (and their families) would stay at their own homes for the holidays. They have every right to do so and I allow them their choices. I understand and can see things from their stand point. I know they love us (me, now).

Then when my brother and his wife also decided not to come any more, Mum and I settled into our “alone” holidays. Ma refused to go out, although we might have gone once or twice to Don’s for Thanksgiving, but Christmases were just the two of us. We stopped buying presents. Today I am realizing how much that still hurts; and how MUCH it hurts!

I’ve occasionally talked about this in past – a little. I’ve never told any of them how much it hurt and how much it hurts me still. Ma never talked about it at all. Maybe it hurt her more than she ever let on, and more and more she’d just sit in her rocking chair locked in her own thoughts. After all, Christmas, especially, was her favorite holiday and she so loved buying presents for everyone and having everyone come to the house. She lived to have a house full of family. Suddenly having the holiday day just being the two of us must have been more traumatic for her than I ever realized.

Maybe it’s time to start talking ... except I can’t without tears. Every year the season is full of tears. And I CHOOSE to stay alone.

I’ve been afraid. If I start to talk about how I feel, it will all come down to being my fault. I’m afraid that they will start pointing out all the things that I did wrong and where I was/am lacking as a mother and grandmother. I’m afraid that somewhere along the way I’ve hurt them. How can I ever fix that? How can I ever know that I didn’t do anything wrong? At least I don’t think I did. But I’ve always had to be true to my authentic self.

I have mentioned the poor mother/grandmother aspect before, but not so much about the holiday issue. I just kept telling myself that they all have the right to celebrate holidays as they see fit (and they do). I still love them no matter what. Maybe it’s only in my mind that there are issues.

This is something to work on during this season. I have to be gentle and loving with myself, as I am with others, and work on better understanding why I feel as I do. I thought I had this behind me, but evidently there’s more I need to resolve within myself.

The work goes on. I am Enough! I am getting better! I am a good, loving person!

  

Looking for Some Kind of Forgiveness

This morning I get up feeling refreshed. All the deep emotional outpouring yesterday cleared something within. I pick up my colored pens (today I am using orange and brown pens) after doing my usual morning chores and settle into journaling.

I talk about my mother a lot – if not to other people, at least with myself. I spend a lot of time on self-reflection and I analyze my thoughts and feelings. I consider why I act in such ways and contemplate the reasons behind the life choices I make. And I think and think and think.

Two words always jump out – I know – because I do know, and even though I do know, I still go through all this soul-searching. It’s what I do. It helps me figure things out and helps me understand why I do what I do. It also helps me understand life in general; not just mine, but I can see why others do what they do. (That doesn’t mean I have to like and agree with what they do, but I can understand… or I have a bit of understanding.)

So I know. I know I don’t have to feel guilty for my decisions. I know I don’t have to have regrets. I know I don’t really have to explain myself, but I do it because it helps me; and sometimes what I go through may help someone else with understanding their own lives, plus we find we are not so all alone when we share. I know what I experience, others, too go through.

I know I am not looking for someone to tell me what to do. I know my “talking” is putting words to my feeling so I can “see” my life better. I know what I want from my life and I know who I am. 

I also know there are always questions and, for me, a hint of self doubt; those old self-loathing feelings sometime creeping out of the past. And even though I ask questions, a good part of the time I know the answers. Am I a good mother/grandmother? Was I a good daughter? What can I give others to return the kindness and love given me? I know who I am, so why do these questions keep coming up?

The holidays are often spent in this soul-searching, especially around the issue of family, and today it hits me – a topic I keep avoiding because, in reality, I know the answer. 

Forgiveness. 

Even though I know the answer, there is still part of me that… yearns… to know that I am forgiven. Yes, I know there is no need to ask. I know I am forgiven. But self-doubts tend to hover in the subconscious ready to jump out and nag. I know my mother forgives me for not being the daughter she wanted and I know she is proud of me and she loves me for who I am. I know my sons forgive me for not being the typical mother/grandmother. I know everyone forgives me for isolating myself. My kitty, Pele, of course, forgives me anything.

I also know I have to forgive myself. And because I keep doubting (well, on one hand I do and on the other, I don’t) does this mean I don’t really forgive myself for whatever it is I think I do or have done wrong? 

Forgiveness… is maybe one of the biggest words of all time; that, and love.

Christmas Eve Party in my Mind

I often try to describe the flashes of inspiration that flood my soul. This morning, it’s a feeling of a bunch of friends and neighbors crowding the door, ringing the bell (not that I have a doorbell), and all trying to get in the house (my mind). It’s ironic that when I get these flashes, it’s not just one train of thought. 

The visitors never stay long, but they all want to talk at the same time. If I don’t pay immediate attention to them, they disappear. Uh, oh, I just had another thought… what are you all going to think about me if I admit to having a ton of voices in my head? But it’s not really voices I hear. The impressions come in words and feelings and sometimes pictures. And it comes in one huge gush lasting about an hour. It’s exciting and just like a real party. Hmmm, I’ve never looked at it this way.

Maybe this is why I struggle in physical crowds and why I don’t like real parties, ha ha. If the mental crowd in my head is a bit overwhelming, then also having actual people around is much more. I am left with a similar feeling from both examples. I want to talk to everyone, listen to everyone. I want to give each feeling, thought, idea its due, but I can’t get it all down on paper. I feel guilty because there is always someone whom I didn’t give proper attention.

How interesting this is.

It’s like when the whole family visits and I try to spend a little time with each grandchild and each parent. I want each person to get individual attention, but always, after they leave, I’m left thinking, “Oh I didn’t talk to so and so,” and I feel bad. Or when I cover an event for the newspaper and there are many people and things going on. I come away to write the story and realize I’ve missed something or did not talk to someone important.

This is what happens when, for that hour in the morning, my mind is open to that flood of artistic inspiration. It all gushes in at once. Ah, a time limit, that hour, and again, similar to attending events or visiting with friends and family. Time is always an issue. 

So this morning, Christmas Eve, these thoughts come pounding at my door and I have a party of creative inspiration in my mind. I scramble to write here and write in my journal while ideas pop up from conversations held yesterday or something read. 

I do have to admit that I find this exciting and a challenge as I try to record as much information as I can while also trying to let the brain run free with the incoming thoughts. No wonder I can’t stay focused on one project, ha ha, but I practice this. I let my mind be open to possibility and what joy this gives me.

I am happy. I may be physically alone, but there is a party in my head and I enjoy dancing and singing with inspiration and thoughts and ideas of creativity.

Merry Christmas Eve, everyone. I hope you can do what you enjoy!

A New Christmas Season

The past three Christmas seasons have been very emotional as everything about the Bradford house reminded me of my mother. Yes, I miss her every day and some days I still cry. I have her picture placed so she is always with me. I miss her so much!

But moving to the new home has lessened some of the pain, the sad memories. I will still spend Christmas alone with her, playing her favorite game. I am actually looking forward to it. However, this new home has a different feel… or maybe I just feel more ready to continue moving on. 

Years ago I went a bit overboard with decorating. That became less so in later years, then after her passing, hardly anything as grief was too encompassing during the season (she had passed away on Christmas Day). In having to downsize to move here, I got rid of all of the decorations that had been saved throughout the years. Some went before I left Bradford, then another two full boxes after moving here. 

I did keep a wreath, my little, foot-tall, lighted, purple tree, and a couple of purple and pink ornaments. I realize I got rid of some of the items I meant to save as some of what I kept actually had prices on them from the estate sale.

Now that I have neighbors and can see nightly Christmas lights, I am feeling more inspired again. My little lighted tree isn’t enough and the blue balls hanging on the old wreath do not go with the red-trimmed house. 

I don’t know if I want to purchase new decorations after throwing away and giving away so much. However, I feel the need for color, for brightness, for happiness. I need to bring in happy.

I can’t feel guilty about what I discarded because what worked in other homes would not work here, so perhaps I do need to go new. And I don’t need a lot… never again too much.

It seems that not only a physical move has made a big change in my life, but I am moving in other ways, too, as even how I look at my art is evolving. It happens. So maybe if I run out today to pay my taxes, I can reward myself by stopping to purchase something Christmasy to further brighten my new home. What do you think?

Decorating for the Holidays

It’s the day after Thanksgiving and a time when many start putting up Christmas decorations. Years ago, I waited until the first of December, but I have to admit, it is nice to have pretty lights shining when the days darken early. The few times I am out after dark, those lights bring joy during the cold, dark winter.

Christmas changed throughout the years once the kids grew up and moved out. I used to go all out decorating, but when people stopped visiting, I lost interest. It didn’t seem worth the effort for Mum and me and by that time, she no longer cared either. Then her passing away on a Christmas Day totally destroyed any joy I had around the holiday. (Tears are falling even in the writing of these few lines. For me, my mother WAS Christmas! Four years later and the thought of Christmas without my mother is still unbearable.)

But I am healing. Last year I got back into sending cards. Christmas cards are time consuming because it is important to me to handwrite a personal message in almost every one and the bonus was that these were Christmas cards that I made from photographs I had taken. This is my gift, my giving.

The year 2015 brought more major life-change with the big move and downsize. Boxes of Christmas ornaments, fake trees, and decorations went in the dumpster or were put curbside, free for the taking. And there were boxes! At one time, I had almost an entire corner of the basement in Bradford full of Christmas supplies; some still in individual boxes, only used once. All are gone now except for a dozen small pieces.

And so, I sit in this new home, this home where I did not live with Ma (except I have her picture placed so she is looking at me most of the day). Yesterday, I pulled out the decorations that are left and last night I plugged in the little lighted purple Christmas tree and today I hung a wreath on the front door.

The few decorations I saved are two stuffed Christmas unicorns, three ceramic rocking horses (I’ve always loved horses), and a few purple and pink ornaments. Did I get rid of too much? I’ll have to see how December proceeds and how I feel.

My emotions, at the moment, are all over the place. Part of me wants a new beginning. Part of me still feels empty and lost. I think I need to find a new meaning for Christmas… new for me because the Christmases of the past are no longer, nor can they be. And for this year, I still choose to be alone.