
Ahh, the holidays. Everybody has an opinion on them. The idea is that it is the happiest time of the year. Everybody is with family, laughing and spending time together. Exchanging presents, good food and joyful company to be had!
The truth is, a lot of us are done with it. We want to scream!

We are away from family or have been exiled because of who we are and what boundaries we set. We are broken or just plain broke to participate in any holiday gift exchange. We hear everyone talking about their kids, their parents, their friends, and having to bite back the tears when they are showered with this love and you are not.
I've been there.
Many would tell me to stop complaining. My parents gave me a roof over my head, fed me and gave me clothes. They raised me right because I came out perfect and healthy. I should be grateful and smile and expect the same out of my child. After all, my parents did the best that they could and I did too.
I wish people would stop saying that.
Yes, it is true. My parents did the best they could with the tools that they had. But they also chose to repeat the patterns their parents had set and pretended to hide behind the mask of a perfect family. They were not nice. And if saying this bothers you and you still think I should be bowing to them, maybe you should know a little more about the holidays we had.
First, my father's birthday was in December. When he was growing up, he would not get presents for his birthday and get "combined gifts" for Christmas, or he would get a ton of gifts for his birthday and nothing for Christmas. He expressed openly all year, every year, that he deserved birthday AND Christmas gifts, which, of course, he did. We made sure of it. But his obsessiveness about it made us on edge. We had to express loudly which gift was which and made him special on both days.

Almost a week before that, it was my parents' wedding anniversary. Like anything she wanted to celebrate, my mother wanted us to pay sole attention to her, not my father, and to do things for her - make sure her whims were fulfilled, cleaning for her, anything she asked. My father had gone to culinary school, so he was always at the stove. And as good children, we obeyed and made it about her.
Since joining my husband's family years before we married, we have celebrated my father-in-law's birthday...which was the day after my father's. He too experienced the same kind of trauma my father did. He also kept everyone on their toes, claiming one day or another was HIS birthday when it clearly wasn't. Since my hubby informed me before I met him when his dad's birthday is, I was prepared to play his games.
The holidays were so focused on the needs of others that we did not see our own.
Add autistic son and you've got a tightrope act.
We were dragging Calvin everywhere, to two to four houses every holiday, with over three hours of driving. While Calvin enjoyed seeing people, he was overstimulated. And for an autistic child, that is difficult. Everybody did not understand that, and often commented about how we did not discipline enough. One Thanksgiving, an elderly relation hit my son with her cane and shoved him out of the room, telling him to be quiet. All he was doing was waving his hands and making happy noises at the table. Calvin was five years old.
In these cases, nobody sided with us. It was always our fault and we had to listen. It never made sense.

Then, we were given the opportunity to host the holidays. We bought a house that year, we had the energy and capability to host, etc., so we prepped...only to find out that nobody wanted us to host. Everybody came, and it was wonderful, and in the end, all they did was complain.
Not thank anybody for preparing the food, or how lovely it was to see x, y and z again. It was the negative comments that were the loudest and they came out the most. We lived too far away, the food was too sugary, the couch cushion sank and was not comfortable...anything and everything. None of it made sense to me. My neurodivergent mind is going: everyone was smiling and laughing, so it should have been good. The trauma in me cried: would they lie to keep up the pretense?
The next couple of years, the crowds disappeared more and more. By the time COVID came, everybody was "busy" with their lives, making the same excuses they did the first time. There were the exceptions - caretakers. The few elderly remaining in my family are being cared for by those of my parents' generation, and I feel for them. The holidays are tough with them because of their limitations.
I did not talk about this part much.
In the summer of 2021, after three years of endless funerals, I broke. I had a mental breakdown and could not work. My anxiety and depression increased, and I was trying to find ways to keep it inside. I was not supposed to do things like that!
At the same time this was happening, the symptoms of my chronic illnesses intensified and knocked me down.

I was alone. While my mother worked the same company I did, she did not have any interest in taking time off. My in-laws had their own problems. People I knew ghosted me after the diagnosis, and others left for another state/career, have their own problems, are caretakers, etc. My father was the last person who was there to catch us when we fell.
But after his death, I learned what it meant to have a village.
This year especially, I've felt a sense of calm because of the feeling that we are a true family. This isn't some imposter, I am not an observer. Brian, Calvin and I are a family, and we opened it up to two cats and a dog. We don't need anybody's approval or presence to make this any less a holidays. We set our own time, we have our limits, and we had nobody on our backs. It was perfect!
It never meant that the sadness went away. We realized that the peace we wanted was not the chaos and shaming that our families brought to the table. It was the idea that they too would find their way and act like an actual family. The imagination and reality often do not match sadly.
But there was that friend that lent us money to cover our bills that one month.
And the one who took my call at 2 AM when I was anxious and she was driving home with her son.
Or the cousin in another state that info dumps (as much as I do) and is trying to heal in her own way.
The aunt and uncle caring for my grandmother, even if they do not understand what I'm saying.

The sister from another mister, who would randomly send me memes and tell me it's ok to be autistic.
I know that there are many that I missed (or think they are part of it, to be honest). But all of us have different stories and lives, but the one thing that binds us together is empathy. We are products of a system that went horribly wrong, and taught that this time of the year is especially the time to take the abuse.
No. More.
Our illnesses strike unexpectedly, even the mental ones. We've already been judged for so long and had already been told how people felt about us when they skipped our son's birthday party. This was why we took our the good dishes our and just enjoyed ourselves. Even the fur babies got a part of the meal.
And after years of trauma, we had the happiest holiday I could remember. No resentment, no fighting, no outside relations at the door. What more can I ask for?
Namaste, everyone! Have a great holiday weekend!
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