Write about a few of your favorite family traditions.
Before I get started about first family traditions, I got invited to a Burns Nicht party at Zac’s in which we all sat around the table and read poetry by Robbie Burns. I said, “is it bad that almost every time I mention Robbie Burns, I accidentally say ‘Robbie Coltrane’ first?” Everyone laughed.
My new retired spook friends came, and I was going to ask them to review my fiction prompt, but it was lost in the merriment. I even found a scotch I liked with peat moss, and I have said for many years that I don’t like it. What I have learned is that I don’t like the peat turned up to the dominant flavor because to me it smells like Band-Aids when they used to come in a tin. Everyone broke up laughing, and one of the spooks said, “and now we know why she’s a writer.” I laughed until I cried.
I announced I was leaving at 11:00 so I didn’t miss the last train, but no one wanted me to leave so I crashed here. As a result, you are getting this from Zac’s room. He’s already left for work and I’m writing in the quiet, as I often do because I have housemates. Now, so does Zac. Sometimes it’s a problem because I get interrupted in the middle of a thought, but not as much as I do with five of them.
So, in this quiet, reflective moment, I’ll go back in time.
The Herdmans were absolutely the worst kids in the history of the world. They lied and stole and smoked cigars (even the girls) and talked dirty and hit little kids and cussed their teachers and took the name of the Lord in vain and set fire to Fred Shoemaker’s old broken-down toolhouse.
Barbara Robinson
This is the first paragraph of “The Best Christmas Pageant Ever,” which is the thing I remember most about my childhood because during Advent, we read sections from it every night. The story is basically The Herdmans taking over the Christmas pageant and it being memorable because the Herdmans were as poor as Mary and Joseph.
We lit the Advent candles, ate the chocolate out of our Advent calendars, and enjoyed crying with laughter.
SHAZAM! UNTO YOU A CHILD IS BORN!
Dana and I continued the tradition of having devotionals for Advent, but we usually got the books put out by the UCC.
We also cut down our own Christmas tree every year and I put up with it because I loved the smell, but my allergies were miserable. It was a trade-off. One year we skipped it and drew a Christmas tree on our patio door. I ended up making the angel’s halo an Ubuntu logo, because of course I did.
Several times in my life have I done a Solstice Party, both in Oregon and Virginia. This year’s was very memorable because we all wrote something we wanted to let go of and threw it into the fire. Not only was it meaningful, it brought back a memory from my emotional abuser that genuinely made me laugh. My dad always set up a fire for people to do that on Ash Wednesday, and either used them after they were cool or used the ones from the previous year. I don’t remember.
Anyway, she said, “now I feel like I’m walking around with someone else’s problems on my forehead.” Now I know enough to know that my response should have been, “welcome to my world.”
Traditions at her house were huge parties for her birthday and Christmas. We only did Christmas morning together once, and it was great. We woke up to Jule Andrews, had mimosas, and opened gifts. I wish it had happened more, but over time it just didn’t and I have no idea why. Probably because she was telling her partner one thing and me another and had been for many years, so when I showed up in the flesh, she was caught between those two stories, so she invalidated mine by making me look crazier than I was.
Who wouldn’t be rabid about someone who practically raised them from the time they were 12?
Because we both moved to Portland as adults, no one saw us when she was in her twenties and I was in my teens. So, she could use my mental illness against me rather than admit that she had told everyone a different story.
She told me from the moment she moved to Portland that she wanted me to come and live with her- get out of the Bible Belt. I think she was just single and lonely in a new city and needed a friend, because according to her partner, she said that she thought I’d just go away when I was 18.
Those two stories are quite a bit different, eh?
She just didn’t tell me what she told her partner, so from the minute I arrived in Portland, to me I had my “mom” back and her partner must have thought I was some sort of stalker, because she treated me with a suspicion that just didn’t need to be there…… because of course she did. She didn’t know my story, and over time refused to believe it was true….. because by then, the emotional abuse was telling everyone about me “chasing her” so that I looked like I was competing for something when I felt like I’d been inverting the parent/child dynamic our entire relationship. She absolutely used me as her dumping ground and left me in a heap…… and no one saw it.
So, those traditions became less and less because I realized that her actions made her look like such a jackass to me. The spell was broken. Either claim me or let me go, because I don’t have to stand around while you make up everything and I try to be nice about it so you don’t drop me altogether.
She also didn’t like me as she got older, because she didn’t think of herself as “older and often not wiser” anymore. As I grew, she hated it when I called her out on the carpet because no one does that….. but I’ll speak truth to power because I don’t give a damn if you’re a trademark all on your own, you still have the emotional abilities of a human. How you execute that is your communication style, but whether you’re the president of the United States or a migrant worker, you have the same potential emotional range.
I don’t want to talk about how impressive you are, I want to talk about how to be in a relationship with you. How do I love you so that you know it? How do I know when I feel loved? How do I know to walk away when I am not getting my needs met and the other person isn’t taking my needs into consideration and thinking of them as important?
The longer I stayed in that relationship, the longer I knew I’d already stayed too long. It was 23 years, because you don’t lose hope on a parent figure until you realize how toxic it really was. I was so shellshocked that a friend likened it to battered wife syndrome, in a way, and worse because I was so young.
So, when I think of traditions, most of them have to do with the person I miss a lot at times when I’m thinking of good memories and also hate with a burning passion that exceeds even my expectations when I think of the bad. I get angry not only at myself, but at having watched the way she treated other women after I was discarded and seeing them go through the same range of emotions I did….. except they were adults.
They didn’t have the strict power imbalance that I did, but the lovebomb/discard cycle is real and I was only in Portland for 12 years and I watched her go through “best friends” way too much for that.
She tried to do it to me. After several years of discarding me at every chance she got, not even taking my calls, we were at a concert together and she called me her best friend. I stopped contact after that, because the story she was telling herself was all in her head.
In public, she praised herself for helping raise me and ignored me in private. It was a sick, sad world for many years, so I got out.
And that’s where the traditions stopped, because when I left that toxic relationship, I got rid of a lot of them.
I sent a poorly worded e-mail about it to Supergrover, so I want to word it differently here in case she sees it. In the letter, I said something about wanting her to be my first priority because of the hard out and also because her hard out affected my blog more than anything else in my life. She is also successful at everything she does, and really has her shit together. I have no doubt that her bosses think as highly of hers as the glowing reports Zac and I have gotten in the past. I wanted to learn how to be that sort of person from both of them, because Supergrover is neurotypical and Zac is neurodivergent……….
But the way I phrased it was “what could Dana have done for me that you could?” I meant that Dana was going down and I was going with her. I didn’t want that anymore. But it made it sound like our relationships were transactional, when they were anything but. She was rescuing me from an untenable situation because of Dana’s drinking and physical violence. I would not have had the strength to leave unless I’d met someone like that who knew she deserved me, when my self- esteem was so low I couldn’t say the same. I couldn’t believe in my belief in me, but I could believe in hers.
I struggled with those love feelings because of her belief in me. I just needed validation so much when I couldn’t give it to myself. I still struggle with platonic love feelings, because I wished for a healthy relationship that was sustainable and we just can’t seem to get there.
But we did have our own traditions in terms of sending books for Christmas that we thought each other would like……. and she had my number. I miss talking about the little things just as much as I miss talking about the big things.
Just like with Zac, I never wanted more than she could give me in terms of time. I began to hate that she told other people her feelings about me instead of addressing me directly, and not telling me that her boyfriend/husband was reading when she asked me to keep everything tight and “adults don’t have conversations about other adults.” Additionally, she’d tell me she didn’t have time to write for weeks on end, then finally, finally, what was really going on. It was guilt, frustration, whatever. Everything she wasn’t telling me that would have solved the problem immediately if she hadn’t held it in.
We’ve wasted so much time, because what I know for sure is that the closeness we had in the beginning is worth fighting for, but the toxic cycle is not. But in order to resurrect those feelings, I’d have to know what her boundaries were so I didn’t cross them and vice versa.I don’t do well on mind-reading and “gotcha” moments.
Now that? That became a tradition, one in which I’m glad is now over unless Supergrover gets over the anger she doesn’t have. I have more self-worth thanks to her, and I’m tired of trying to pay it back and it not working…… I wish the message every day had been “you’re the most beautiful person I know,” because I don’t think she tells herself often enough.
Our “Sunrise, Sunset.”
Stories That Are All True 