Holidays

This is Motif Monday a day late and as a break from work, which is progressing adequately. (Though I am practicing the "if you can't say anything nice..." rule today and practicing avoidance. This is working pretty well for me.)

So on Holidays: I have a lot of feelings, most of them not so great, about holidays in general. For one thing, I've noticed that I'm at a loss if I have a day off with nothing to do or accomplish, and so the day off work can throw me into depression. Yeah, so it turns out I'm a sort of workaholic, even though I spend a lot of time goofing off and avoiding work. I'm not sure I get it, either.

Second, I didn't have a very happy childhood. I think a happy childhood is important in forming a love of the damn holidays--including birthdays, 4th of July, and so on.

Recently, Seth and I decided to stop trying to give each other gifts at holidays and birthdays, though we still end up getting each other things, just usually small gifts instead of anything big. Big equals attempts to prove something or provide something unusual... Generally with us, if we're ready for it, we go get it. Last year, Seth and I ended up giving each other money toward bicycles, just a few months apart (5/12 for Seth, 7/11 for me). Seth surprised me with a card on my birthday on the train, and that was sweet--he's really good at that.

Some part of me believes that when I'm able to accept gifts, that'll be the day I can stop going to therapy. I like to give gifts, though I don't like giving under duress or obligation. There are people who are so good at receiving gifts, so excited about being given something that it's fun to give to them. Even better is if they actually use the gift, though. I love to see Seth wearing his scarves and sweaters; it almost makes the cold weather palatable. (Come to think of it, though, he's kinda silly: last night he was freezing, wearing only a synthetic scarf I'd knit him, not one of his wool scarves or sweaters. I should've reminded him of the bounty upstairs.)

Ah now I'm talking about knitting. Last summer when we moved--and in the spring when I was dealing with that Ikea armoire at the old house--I said, I actually said, "How many sweaters can one person have?" Now I cannot knit fast enough. Seriously.

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To sum up: as I've gotten older, I realize more and more how not-unusual it is to dread/dislike/not enjoy the holidays. And how people mainly get drunk on them. A few years ago, I stopped talking to my mom for a while to help get over the depression talking to her caused for me. It was hard, probably especially for her, because I couldn't talk to her about why I wasn't talking to her. Now we're communicating very infrequently but I simply don't go home for the holidays. Huh, speaking of which, my dad emailed me about it and I've unintentionally ignored him. I shall call him tonight. Last year, he came over with my brothers and we were all together at our house. It was slightly hellish but my brothers and I bonded a bit more over the hell. Then they all went down to Portland (where my mom, sister & brother-in-law live) and avoided killing each other there. Sigh. Not sure what I'm going to do about this... I'll be sure to post about it.