Christmas came and went, and my house--which looks like a bit of a war zone--can prove it. There's laundry piled high in baskets in my room, hiding from any potential visitors of the last few days. Tiny wrapping paper pieces are strewn here and there and overwhelm me. And let's not get started on the toy/toy boxes, and we didn't even buy a lot of toys! But the few toys we did buy are all over the place, and having Tim home has just made me apathetic to clean the mess. I just want to be with him and the kids.
I can't tell you how many walks I've taken beside my stumbling roller-skating children since Christmas. They're getting better, but the walks can seem a bit painful in the process. I've played cards, read books, helped with fresh makeup, died hair and colored pictures. Mind-numbing things, but honestly--the only things that really matter right now.
Christmas season felt a bit off this year. It was too busy, too cluttered with meetings, parties and concerts. By December 23rd, I felt like I hadn't even stopped to breathe in the cool, crisp December air, rather I chugged it in between driving assignments. I was exhausted and worn down. I also felt sad to be apart from my parents for yet another Christmas. When Mya was little Tim and I decided we would no longer travel for holidays, and for the most part I am very happy with that decision. Our holidays are full of neighbors and local activities, but there is this part of me that misses the sound of my mom's feet shuffling into the kitchen on Christmas morning, clanging measuring scoops and pans (even in an effort to be quiet) to make a batch of her delicious coffee cake. And although I make the same coffee cake each Christmas, I miss my mom doing it. And I miss the sound of the garage door opening and my dad walking in the door after his Christmas morning store run.
That sadness bled deep into my heart this Christmas, and I thought deeply about the many people who must feel such a profound loss and separation at this time of year, and not just by miles. I had the tiniest glimpse of what that must feel like, and it hurt.
I also have been dealing with quite an inner battle with myself and my demons. I have felt zero confidence in myself since this summer, and I've let that insecurity cripple me in ways I'm embarrassed to admit. Rather than go out a lot of days, I stay in, hiding from the world and shielding my insecurities behind my front door. And if I did go out, I hid under baggy clothes and a hat, so as not to reveal any problems. But I became self-absorbed in the process and forgot to look out and look up, and I recognized that a little over a week ago as I tried to pinpoint the problem I was having with the holiday season. So here I am trying to reconcile my insecurities with truth and reality, and I'm trying my hardest to look outside myself more.
Christmas may not have been what it usually is for me, full of lights and peace and warmth, but I'm grateful for the season because it helped me begin to pick up the pieces of my own fight.
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"Be kind and considerate with your criticism... It's just as hard to write a bad book as it is to write a good book." Malcolm Cowley