Pass the gravy, please?

“Can I just name that holidays kind of suck?”

 I texted a friend. 

 “the expectations, the shoulds”

“The worst,” she replied.

I am aware of the constant low level anxiety about getting “it” all done, whatever “it,” is. In Texas I wait desperately for sweater weather and by the time it arrives in November, I find myself overheating in the mad rush of travel plans, flights, menus, and shopping lists.  All of the “its” piling up.  Oh and I must remember to get a family photo so I can put it on our Christmas card that needs to be mailed the first week in December.  Says who?  I don’t know.  Me, I guess?

Well, I forgot. Or did I?  

Part of me loves receiving and hearing about friends & families.  But in my honest moments, part of me resents the pressure, pretense and performance.  Mind you, I am a willing participant so you will get no finger pointing from me.

I just wonder, amidst all of the holiday cheer, where is the space to acknowledge the angst and grief?  I have had 4 conversations this week alone with friends who just don’t feel the holiday spirit, who are dealing with grief, anxiety, loss, blanketed with deep sadness at the state of our country.  

I had an immigrant friend say,  I could not use the word, miedo (fear) around her.   She put her finger to her lips to shush me.  I was confused if I had the correct word in Spanish. And she said, “YOU can use that word, I can’t” — As though if she dared to acknowledge it, name it…it just may swallow her whole.  

I have multiple friends who share their alarm at what is happening in our country and the world.  We are all trying to limit our intake to stay sane but also don’t want to be uninformed.  It is an impossible balance.  And where is the line between being an accommodator and maintaining one's mental health?  How does one celebrate family while families are being hunted?  And how does one sit beside the family member who thinks this is not a problem.  What if all one can utter is, “Pass the gravy, please?”

If this feels over the top, a downer.  If things feel normal to you, I would love to meet you. Truly. But this letter might not be for you.  

This is for those of us who are struggling to find peace and joy this season. For those who are not sure where grief ends and hope begins.  For those who find family brings a complicated mix of pain and love.  For those who don’t know how to be with a friend or family member without betraying themselves.  For those who are broken by the state of the world and wish others were too.  For those who are lonely in a room full of festive people.  It’s okay to not be okay.  It’s okay to name it.  It’s okay to drop the pretense.  

The weight is big around the holidays. The expectations are bigger.  We all hold them in the stories we tell ourselves and one another… around family, tradition, church & culture.  

And I know for me, acknowledgement is the key. I need to pause often.  To put one hand on my heart and one on my belly and take long, slow, deep breaths.  And then to name the expectations and release myself and others from them. The problem with acknowledgement, seeing, becoming conscious is that once you see it. You can’t unsee it. 

My mom came for Thanksgiving this year.  It was only five of us.  My two adult sons, my husband and myself.  It has been just over a year since my dad passed away.  And mom felt she could travel for the first time and join us.  We are learning to notice and name our fears.  She packed them alongside her fuzzy socks and traveled with some anxiety at being away from the security of her New England farm house, where whispers of my dad flit about everywhere.  Still she came.  Brave.  Hard.  

My oldest son flew in from Boulder, where he works in a mental health recovery program. The one he went through.  He would tell you openly about the work he does and how meaningful it is.  We have all been on a journey with him these last few years.  And we are all still learning what it means to show up in spaces together.  What it means to be whole and healthy. We do our best to release our shoulds of ourselves and of others. Everyone gets to step away, take care of themselves at any time.  No explanation needed.  

Nan shared tears at the counter over coffee one morning and tears at Thanksgiving dinner over her cranberry sauce, turkey, toasted marshmallow sweet potatoes and green beans.   And in between the tears, we shared things we were grateful for and things we hoped for in the coming year.  We laughed, we argued.  I said something I regret when I got triggered. Sigh.

Yes, families are complicated.  Holidays are hard. But what makes it harder is pretending they are not.  

Buddhist wisdom says it is not suffering but the resistance to suffering that is the real suffering. 

On Thanksgiving night we found ourselves huddled up in the living room, eagerly awaiting the 5th season of Stranger Things. I think the strangest thing about it is how 3 generations of us found this science fiction horror series almost, dare I say, delightful.  — this cast of underdogs, misfits, heroes and villains, demogorgons, a Mind Flayer.. and the terrifying Vecna. Vecna, the embodiment of the Evil villain, while in reality, the epitome of the unhealed wounded man child. 

The Upside Down, the alternate nightmare world, feels like a timely metaphor for this moment.  And maybe that was part of what drew us all in. 

If these unsuspecting misfits can band together to save their family and friends; If they can face their fears, their nightmares made real; If they can screw things up and come back together; If they can show up with their whole selves, then maybe we can too.  I wonder if their upside down world made us feel a little less afraid of the monsters we face in our own.