I really enjoy having the freedom to put my thoughts -well, somewhere; writing is like my personal therapy.
My brain, even though I am sure on a scan it would be lit up all funky, blotchy, and likely considered ‘dysfunctional’…
is somehow still full of ideas and deep things that always seem to be circulating and brewing regardless of where I am or what I am doing.
My routine, routinely changes. That’s something I can count on.
Although I am somewhat of a crazy list making person who enjoys the illusion of control that my lists allow me to hide behind…
I know that I can arrange and personalize this juggling act to fit our lives, but the day to day will always look completely different than what I envision in my head when it comes to planning or scheduling, or balancing.
So lately, my writing world has come down to a battle of ‘blog or sleep’
and sleep is winning.
I am happy to say that things are settling down and look semi-reasonable.
I am more than ready to spew and piece together random thoughts to share with the internet again.
Our little family of 5 is doing well. We are happy and healthy, and crazy and loud.
We enjoy this madness and especially love the long weekends, yummy food, and extra family time that the holiday season gifts to us.
And yet there’s this nagging feeling in the back of my mind, amidst all of the fun and memory making.
*There are people in my family who will spend the holiday season alone.
Obviously it is unfortunate and sad year round, but it’s just super sucky during the holidays.
There really is not one way to deal with something like this.
In my mind it seems like it is always shifting around these thoughts:
On one hand:
My head knowledge tells me that I have drawn boundary lines that I know are the safest and most reasonable choice for the mental healthy/physical safety/future of my kids.
The flip side:
I am also a recovering codependent enabler who has spent countless hours learning to differentiate being an empathetic lover of all things ethical and human,
and being a chronic ‘helper’ with an incessant need to scoop these people up and dust them off every time they might have to experience a self-fulfilled consequence.
As a person who has struggled with an addiction:
I definitely spent more than enough time all alone with nothing but shame and deafening silence to comfort me. I know how alone, loneliness can feel.
I also know that I isolated myself and at some point in the ordeal, I began isolating on purpose. Although I was very lonely, I had also got to a point where I felt like f*ck anyone who doesn’t accept me for what I have become. (Or who doesn’t have cash or anything for me to pawn).
So in truth, spending time with me only ended up hurting people who loved me,
because I wasn’t ….me.
They wanted to see and hug and help a person that they remembered.
They wanted to just see if I would come out even for a little while.
Yes. It hurts thinking about it.
It hurts knowing that they fight within themselves still continues.
It is hard being the one having to make decisions that are rational and healthy to fit into my new life.
I have times that feel almost unbearable knowing that my decisions seem so heartless and irrational to others, despite my understanding that I am doing the right thing.
Knowing that we cannot fix them or
take steps for them tears me up –but isn’t the hardest part.
It is the knowing and watching part.
Watching as they continuously and tirelessly cycle through shame and use
we can still see shadows of potential wrapped up in the destruction.
We know that God has something spectacular to give to them. It is easy for us to see all of the things that they cannot imagine for themselves.
So this holiday season if you are going through the motions, I say don’t.
Don’t just go through the motions.
Try to allow yourself to embrace and enjoy the season with people that you love, who love you, and who you are able to make memories with.
Love your sick/hurting family member in whatever way you are personally able to handle and in a way that is in fact helping you both and not destroying the both of you.
We can only love them.
We can’t do it for them, and it’s okay to believe that.