My expectations got the best of me, my innocent belief and assumptions had me sitting in a pile of resentment, a pile I had made myself.
My greatest failings are to ask questions to see how their plans will affect mine. It is all the things unsaid that clutter up the moment of now, and perhaps my wanting to be available.
So accommodating for them, that I forget to remember doing what I need for me.
Christmas Eve day started out fine, talking to one of my friends, making last minute gifts with my daughter, tossing packages at the post office for a few hours and then coming home to do my last minute baking.
Everyone but one daughter with a bad cold was home, the rest had gone to a party I no longer attended. I was okay with them going, or so I thought.
I guess I wanted them to put in an appearance, to make a quick stop by, and then come home.
Instead I got the quick stop by.
My afternoon was spent baking and cleaning, in hopes that they would be home soon to help. As the hours continued to click by, the resentment began to pile up.
By the time we all were together again, I was beat and filled with the absence of Christmas spirit.
I tried to sort out what I was most angry at, and knowing anger was hurt, what I was so hurt about.
The list seemed long.
The list of things I failed to do for myself.
I failed to ask if we were going to meet as a family on Christmas eve and what time to expect them all home.
Failed to elicit help with the clothes and cleaning.
Failure to prepare for a party of one and to have something special for me to do while they were gone.
Failure to put up boundaries and limits as to what I will do and when.
What I didn’t want to happen happened.
I didn’t want to spend my Christmas Eve doing work, to have the day slip by without me feeling the joys of Christmas, and it did.
It was like the Christmas train had left the station and I was running behind trying to catch up, and by the time I caught it was too tired to enjoy.
The rest of my family, except for my daughter who wasn’t feeling well, had a nice day. They did what they wanted and were happy.
I on the other hand was miserable.
Miserable tossed in the wake of their choices.
My failure to take control of my world left me being tossed around behind theirs; I just couldn’t get out of their wake.
What I want the least is to be an obligation, and even worse to be left out and forgotten, to be at the end of the list.
And yet I do it to myself time and time again.
So busy doing and being there for others that time slips by with me unnoticed.
The resentment and hurt feelings was my lack of care for me.
Taking care to sit with my feelings.
Stopping the doing when I am tired and honoring my body.
Neglecting to plan something special for me.
A Christmas eve to remember, where I sat drained and empty of me.
Pouring myself out and then resenting them.
This has been my common theme in life.
Waiting for them to say, ‘enough’ instead of saying it myself.
Inside I must feel inadequate that I keep giving and giving and giving, to fill up the hole inside.
Wouldn’t have it been better for them to have a full mom and an empty Christmas list? To have me sitting there full of myself, instead of being drained, to have me happy instead of prune tarts, a clean house, baked bread, clothes done.
Sitting like a beaten woman, beaten by her own demands, her own hands, her own expectations.
Today, Christmas Morning, I will watch that I don’t abuse me.
And keep my Merry inside.
