No, thank you
My tolerance for family togetherness has unravelled
I hate sounding like a grinch, but this is absolutely my least favorite time of the year. I tense at the jingly music playing overhead in Goodwill and at the sight of tiny Christmas trees lining grocery store vestibules. I’ve always had a general distaste for shallow cheer, but especially now after enduring the most painful year of my life (I might write more about this later).
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It was either August or September when I first expressed my dread of the holiday season to my therapist, because while to most people Christmas jingles and mashed potatoes seem lightyears away from late summer sun, to me it’s a sharp corner after back-to-school commercials that triggers a nauseating, emotional motion sickness.
Before she would discharge me in October, my therapist suggested that I spend the holidays with my partner or a friend instead of my family this year, which I believed to be impossible because of the fear I still have of my mother’s wrath as I slowly approach 30. Yet despite all odds and possibly induced by the presidential election, I did find the courage to drive a few hundred miles away from my family to spend Thanksgiving with someone else’s.
I felt a sad pit in my stomach on Thanksgiving Eve, not because I wished I could be with my family, but because I wished I wanted to. Even before my grandfather died this spring, I had very little interest in our holidays together. With the absence of gossipy cousins or a quirky out-of-state aunt, fancy family dinners are boring at best, claustrophobic at worst, with all businesses closed in my small Hallmark-movie hometown that would otherwise provide an escape.
My decade of vegetarianism caused the sagey smell of stuffed turkey to be less enticing and my liberalism made dinner table conversation censored and unenjoyable. Dizzy from eye rolling my uncle’s latest girlfriend, I craved the baby food-textured pumpkin pie and sweet, creamed coffee because it is the natural conclusion to the evening. The digital countdown in my brain resets to 364 Days until I have to do this charade again.
My tolerance for family togetherness has irreparably unravelled this year, and now with the head of the table empty of our Italian kinkeeper, I reject the responsibility of becoming its rightful heir. I’ve been the emotional glue for familial conflict for so many years that I’m completely dried up; nothing oozes out of the milky-white squeeze bottle no matter how hard I’m crushed.
I’m not an actor and I’m exhausted from performing for my parents, concealing any discomfort or anxiety for the sake of kumbaya, like hiding the under-the-table handful of stuffing I feed to the dog. We don’t come close to having a perfect—ahem, healthy—relationship but on two days of the year I feel that I’ve been cast as Doting Daughter #1, a role in which I never auditioned: curtain call, lights, Action!
I’m flattered when someone else’s mother invites me into their family because it’s refreshing to be chosen rather than tolerated. I’m more relaxed and carefree, conversationally bubbly, and notice a tinge of sadness upon leaving instead of the relief that I’m accustomed to.
I have a friend who declines offers in such a way that is all at once polite, stern and cute. There is a strong emphasis on the no followed by a sincere thank you that unlike my nervous, rambling explanations, leaves no room for interjection or bargaining. I want to navigate my obligatory family festivities with this simple phrase, whether it be to turn down a second piece of pie or an invitation home.
Feature Photo by Daria on Unsplash
every word of this has been my experience for the last handful of years. at first i was sad because i wanted to enjoy things, but now i look forward to finding ways to get whatever i personally need out of down time instead of attending obligatory un-fun “festivities” haha