One of us Love school Students have made our following special request Love school Class- How to deal with the holidays when someone you love fails to live up to expectations. He wrote, “How does your child become the sad, hopeless, lonely parts of you during the holidays when your life isn’t exactly a movie? “
Reading his book, I threw myself back at my mother and cried when my father gave her a pregnant cow as a gift, when she wished for something shiny in a small velvet box. He thought she’d up her game since he gave her the oil, but she wasn’t impressed. When I was 8 years old, my dad thought it was in his best interest to give me his credit card and send me Christmas shopping for my mom. When she passed in 2017, and the family was taking out her jewelry, I realized that I had almost found everything in her jewelry box.
My mom had some unfulfilled expectations during the holidays. I will never forget the year he bought matching hoodie footie pajamas for all the “adults” (rebels). We spent Christmas on our family’s farm in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Georgia, where we went into the woods to pick out our Christmas tree, and my father returned his tractor.
Mom wanted a picture of all the adults wearing their matching PJs, but for the sake of her health, she couldn’t get all the kids smoking at the same time. As soon as one of them stopped breaking and crying, the other left. After an hour of trying to get my child to cooperate, I finally said, “Enough!” He tripped with my baby on my boob. Mother looked at Crestfallen.
Refined expectations took a darker turn on my daughter’s father’s face. Every holiday, her mother-in-law had some ideal idea of how the holidays should go, but everyone went eggshells waiting for her interference in the marriage to kick in and lead to an explosion / meltdown. The things that bothered him were so small – and so bothering him – that we finally stopped trying to make vacations at his house.
This is gratitude, I was very grateful for my life. I’m already sad, because I wouldn’t have any of my family. My siblings all meet in Ohio, now that they all live in Columbus, which isn’t really my home, but I’d be joining them when we get just one Thanksgiving, and our new lease only started a few days before. My daughter’s Thanksgiving break was so short that it didn’t make financial or financial sense to fly home from NYC. And since Jeff was in the middle, I didn’t even know pan fried turkey, I couldn’t give him the credit he deserved. My daughter went to a friend’s house, and I did, only, we don’t know anyone in our new town, and an old friend I often celebrate holidays in Santa Cruz.
I told Jeff I didn’t cook for Thanksgiving since we hadn’t unpacked my kitchen yet from storage boxes. Instead, I suggested we shake things up and spend the day at Harbin Hot Springs, eat Pad Thai at Buddha Thai, and rest our sore muscles, taking a day off from walking. All he had to do was buy himself a day pass, because they changed the rules and I can no longer book his day pass with my membership. I can handle the rest.
Thanksgiving morning for my empty nest came, and Jeff hadn’t booked an appointment yet. This new house was a mess of chaos and I was at home and at heart. I felt angry that he would not suffer to meet the least expected to put his credit card on the website so that I can live with my visible and invisible wounds. He thought I was an unattractive person who wouldn’t mind communicating my expectations of a day he knew would be good for me. I felt defensive because I was always very clear about what would make me do on happy days before.
A war was being fought, and my part of the road wanted to be bombed. I hurt myself crying in our bathroom in the renovated station as we walked in. Jeff felt helpless to get me to stop crying, and when he made hooking bids to try to hold me, I pushed him away. It was a royal show. I thought about going to Harbin alone, but I was afraid that I would get many months of “Poor me” from my partner about how to wash him in the water, woke up in boxes, bumping into boxes. It wasn’t worth the harsh punishment I thought I would have to face in the AMFA years, so we both stayed home without charges, with a cold war following a deadly silence.
I spent most of the day putting a watercolor painting of my 5 year old daughter from her Waldorf school in black and white frames to decorate around her, when she is on the train to the river, when she is well fed by her friend Nana. Towards the end of the day, when no one had eaten anything, I suggested we take the dog to the beach for sunset. I packed some drinks and snacks to enjoy around the fire pit, where the beach was beautiful, and the sunset was amazing. Our sensory systems are resolved enough to hold hands and throw ice.
On the way home, we passed by DinCci’s, a new local haunt on highway 1 that serves home-style dining. Jeff offered to buy me dinner there, but when he left and asked for a table, they laughed. They were booked for months. We stopped at a local restaurant, but they closed right after the community potluck and if we had gone there, we would have known it was happening. We called several places, but no one answered the phone, and every restaurant we tried online was booked. We went to bed hungry and lighted up. I slept alone in my daughter’s bedroom, surrounded by her art while I threw her a lot.
The next day, things were put together. One of my best friends, who now lives about three hours from our move, surprised me by calling me to say that I was next to my old group in the West. He asked if Jeff and I wanted to join, which we did. People brought fresh oysters, local wine, homemade kombucha, apple poies from local low-growing apple trees, and leftovers for Thanksgiving. It was medicine for our souls and nourishment for our hungry tummies. I attended it knowing about twenty or so people, and it all ended with a group of kids putting on a great talent show. A child who could sit upright on the drums was a reminder of my holiday. After feeling relieved from the pain with gratitude, I felt just radiant, and, grounded, rooted in community, country, and love.
Thinking about this topic left me anticipating the holidays. What are reasonable expectations and grief planning? I remember a Buddha mentor telling me that all our suffering comes from our expectations, and if we just stopped expecting anything, we could all be happy and surprised. I thought it was Hogwash. How can we have good relationships if we are not allowed to expect even the most basic pleasure? Sure, maybe some expectations are disappointments. But is it unreasonable to expect that if I get cancer, my partner will come to the doctor with me or stay with me during chemo? If we have zero expectations, how can we feel safe, secure and confident?
By special request, this will be the topic of discussion, ifs prapy, old writing, and healing work during our next love school. If you or someone you know is interested in joining, you are invited! The Love School is an ongoing community of practice for those of us facing relationship trauma, coping, and learning to build skills, and support each other for healthy partnerships, friendships, dating, parenting, and family life.
We have some sweet romantic moments planned for the next few sessions. After answering the question of expectations around the holidays, we will have a special guest Shannon Rose to lead us in a discussion about treatment from Therapist / Guru / Shaman Abuse. After that we will have a friendly expert Shasta Nelson Talking about how to make new friends when you are lonely and longing for a bestie or a larger group of friends. If any of these topics sound appropriate, we would like to welcome you to the school.
Read more and join the love at school here.
