Who Asked You? -- Smartly

My essay Who Asked You? is up over at Smartly today.  I invite you to go check it out.  And read a few more while you're there; they've got some great stuff.

Holidays from Hell

So I want to know how many people actually look forward to the big holidays.  And how many people live to regret it.

Seriously.

For every happy, cheesy, life-is-wonderful-and-everyone-in-our-family-loves-each-other-so-much movie there are ten about the dysfunctional, we-got-together-and-we're-just-glad-no-one-killed-anyone movies.  Do you think this is just because Hollywood has a grim world view?  I don't.  In fact, I know it's not because I've experienced my share of holidays from hell.

There was the one when I was on the phone with my grandma telling her how much my Christmas presents sucked and found out my mom was on the other phone listening.  (Yeah, I learned a lesson about gratitude that day.  Through my mom's tears.)

There was the one when we were all around the Thanksgiving table and my brother in-law revealed to everyone at the table that our niece was conceived out of wedlock (she knew, others didn't).  Very religious family; it was a big deal.

Or the Christmas when this kid hit that kid with one of the Christmas chimes.  The father of the victim thought there should be an apology.  The father of the perpetrator didn't think it was a big deal.  They ended up in a yelling match, others got involved, someone got shoved into the wall, several people were pulled apart by others, and as we watched everyone storm away in their cars my husband and I looked at each other wondering if we should lock up (we were the only ones still there and it wasn't our house).

And none of us even drink.  These were all without alcohol.  I know there are other, much more intense, stories out there about family holidays gone bad.  Ask anyone who works in the emergency room or as a cop and they'll tell you.  Holidays are ugly.

Why?

I have a few hypotheses.  Nothing proven, but I think you'll agree that the ingredients that go into big family holidays are like mixing bleach and cleanser -- you're lucky if no one dies.

Recipe for a big holiday family get together:
1.  High Expectations - this one's going to be the best; everyone's going to have a great time; everyone's going to show up (on time) and bring what they said they would; things are going to go exactly as planned
2.  Family - we belong together; we love each other so much; we hardly ever get together (maybe there's a reason); we know everything about each other (secrets, maybe?); we have a history together (which often means a few grudges)

I'm calling those two ingredients bleach and cleanser, because really with those alone you're already in the danger zone.  Adding anything else is just for kicks to see how big the explosion will get.  But let's toss some in anyway.

Optional ingredients:
New people who don't know where to tread lightly; the girlfriend/boyfriend/spouse/guest who drives you crazy even on a good day; alcohol; grandma's dementia which leads her to say whatever comes into her head (some of which turns out to be long kept secrets); poor communication/unspoken expectations (we wanted to watch movies vs. we wanted to watch football, we should pray vs. why does God have to be part of everything?); one part of a couple enjoying themselves while the other wants to be anywhere else; food that doesn't go as planned (the turkey timer that won't pop even though everything else has been ready for over an hour); and did I mention high expectations?

Maybe the only real solution is to change your expectations.  Expect things to go wrong.  Take bets on who starts arguing first, who plays one-upmanship the best, and who reveals the tastiest tidbit of illicit information.  Have a backup meal waiting at home or the hotel (as the case may be) just in case it turns out there's nothing edible.  Make sure you have some Excedrin handy.

And if none of these plans give you any hope, do as my therapist once advised.  Go ahead and take a Valium.  Your desire to kill, and your ability to do so, will be greatly diminished.

Good luck!

My NOT to Do List

SITS activity number 2:  write a list post in 10 minutes.

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I am fairly certain that everyone reading this has made a To Do list at one time or another.  Whether you've lived up to it or not is a different thing entirely.  Some people like to keep a running list, prioritized, with whatever is unfinished at the end of the day rolling over to the next day's list.  Not me.  I like to finish everything on my list; I'm kind of maniacal about it.

Since I've been unwell, I have had to alter my To Do lists.  Sometimes there is just one thing on it for a day.  And I get so frustrated by my inability to complete a real list.

So today, to honor myself and all others who may be struggling to check off their entire lists, I offer a Do Not list.  Some of these will be a little tricky to accomplish, but I have faith in myself.  And in you.  Please accept the challenge to check off everything on this list.

Do NOT:
   * Turn stupid, irritating people into frogs.  No, none of them.
   * Throw rocks at your children's heads no matter how much eye rolling they give you.
   * Shoot, eviscerate, and roast on a spit the neighbor's eternally barking dog.
   * Use mind control on people to get what you want; it's just not nice.
   * Accept the nomination for President of the United States (or any other country).
   * Spike your family's food with a sedative so that you can get more sleep.
   * Walk on the ceiling just to prove that you are stronger than the earth's gravity.
   * Stage a military coup to overthrow the government.
   * Use a fire hose to clean your house by blowing it all out the back door.
   * Burn the house down as an alternative to cleaning it.
   * Travel to Mars just to prove that Martians are not green.  (They are red, duh.)
   * Reveal your secret identity.
   * Follow the rainbow and steal the Leprechaun's gold; again, not nice.
   * Create a clone of yourself so that you can rest while she works.
   * Take over the world.  (That will have to wait for another day, Pinky.)

Real Simple for the Barely Functioning

DISCLAIMER:  This is not real advice.  Do not follow it.

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I love Real Simple magazine.  I like to read it and dream.  I dream about a day when I will have the time, energy, and money to carry out all the wonderful ideas it gives me.  A day when my husband takes the kids and all the pets and goes far, far away.  For several days.  And I have no other obligations.

But reality, in all its wisdom and cruelty, slaps me in the face and I wake up.

So, here I offer my version.  Real Simple for the Barely Functioning -- like me.

You walk through your world in a haze, one pile of stuff blending into the next.  Everything and everyone crying for your attention.  What to do?  Where to start?  How do you find the motivation when it feels like life is living you instead of the other way around?

Here's your motivation:  The stress is your enemy!  Plain and simple.  You must vanquish it to survive.  And you must fight dirty.

Let's get started.

Mail:  If it doesn't contain money or isn't from someone you love, throw it away.  All of it.  If it's important, they'll send you another one.  People who want your money will keep trying.  If you're worried about identity theft, burn it instead.  That will be more satisfying anyway.  You will feel immediate superiority.  You won!

Email:  Delete it.  All of it.  Just start over.  There's nothing prettier than an empty inbox.  Just like with snail mail, if it's important they'll send it again.  Plus now you have legitimacy when someone asks if you did what they asked and you say that you never got their email asking you to do it.  It's the answer you want to give most of the time anyway; why not make it the truth?

Voice Mail:  Really?  Do I have to even type this?  You know what I'm going to say.  Delete it.  All of it.  Scan your caller id, if you must.  If there's anyone there you really want to talk to, call them back and find out what they wanted.  But I'll bet you find mostly irritating people that you didn't want to think about, let alone talk to.  Now you don't have to.

Dishes:  This one requires a little work upfront but will help in the long run.  Wash all the dishes in the house.  Stay up all night if you have to.  Then lock them up.  In anything that requires a key.  How about an old hope chest?  (I hope I don't have any more dirty dishes.)  And buy disposables.  Paper plates.  Plastic spoons.  Everything and anything that will prevent you having to do dishes.  Push aside that desire to be environmentally responsible for a while.  We're talking about your sanity here.  Sacrifices have to be made.  Besides, it's temporary.

Nothing to cook with, you say?  No problem.  This fits in fine with my meal plan.  You won't be cooking.

Breakfast/Lunch/Dinner:  One trip to the store for the week, except for dinners.  Tailor specifics to your needs.  Breakfast is cold cereal.  Lunch is a sandwich.  Dinner is Little Caesar's pizza.  Every day.  For at least a week.  Depending on your beliefs, you may need to buy double the pizza on Saturday and refrigerate it for Sunday.  Every time someone asks what's for dinner, you have the answer.  No thinking.  And someday when you decide to cook again, they will be grateful instead of turning up their noses.  Make sure you continue this meal plan long enough.  If they gripe when you start cooking again, then you didn't do it long enough.  Try again.

Fewer decisions.  Less pressure.  Less mess. 

Breathe!  Again, deeper this time.  Breathe!  Doesn't that feel great?  Nothing like making the tough decisions to give you a little breathing room.

Maybe you would never really do any of these things.  But be honest, it feels good just to imagine yourself doing them, doesn't it?

Watch for future articles on other stressors in your life, with a highlight on children and spouses.

*Sneak Peak -- For pains that you don't think are as serious as they do:  Go to the health food store.  Buy empty gelatin capsules.  Fill them with powdered sugar.  Put them in an old medicine bottle.  Whenever anyone comes to you with a pain that just won't go away (but that you're pretty sure isn't serious) give them one.  Tell them you can only give them one because they are very strong.  Tell them it will take at least half an hour to work.  If they come back in half an hour still in pain, give them one more.  But emphasize that is really all they can have -- too powerful.  If it still hurts after another half hour, it might be a real pain and you'll have to deal with it.  But at least you bought yourself two thirty-minute stretches of peace and quiet.

Who Asked You?

I'm cranky today.  A little snarky.  Is it a good time for me to write a blog?  Probably not.  There's a better than average chance that I'm going to offend or hurt someone.  This is your warning.  Proceed with caution.

Don't you just love unsolicited advice?  The way everyone around you knows exactly how to fix your life?  No, me either.

Do I believe their intentions are pure?  Sometimes.  Do I think they are trying to be hurtful?  Not usually.  Do I find what they say to be helpful?  Very, very rarely.  Usually it comes across as self-agrandizing, holier-than-thou preaching.  At least to me it does.  Especially if I am really having a hard time.

I am not going to tell you how to talk to someone who's having a hard time.  That would be exactly the problem I'm talking about.  I am going to tell you how I would like people to interact with me when I am having a hard time.

1.  Don't assume you know what the problem is.  My life is multi-faceted.  What bothers me one day doesn't the next.  If you think that the one problem you know about is the only problem in my life then you are delusional.  One day it's my health.  One day it's my relationship with my husband.  One day it's my past.  One day it's hormonal.  And some days I don't even know what it is, so how could you?

If you want to know what the problem is (because you are concerned, not out of a morbid curiosity or need to know for your own selfish reasons) then ask me.  Talk to me.  Express your concern and your willingness to listen.  And be prepared for a brush off.  If you are not a person that I am comfortable talking to in that moment, respect that.  These are my feelings and I get to choose who to share them with.

2.  Don't you dare tell me that you know how I feel (or how I should feel).  You don't.  Even if you've had a similar experience, your life up to and around that point are not the same as mine.  You do not have the same temperment as me.  You do not live inside my mind and body.  You do NOT know how I feel.  Nothing will alienate me from you faster than that.

But it will ingratiate you to me if you admit right up front that you don't know how I feel.  Maybe you have an idea, maybe not.  Express your own personal sorrow at seeing me in pain.  Or express your frustration that you can't make me feel better.  Or express your willingness to listen.  Again, listening is the key.  Which leads to number three.

3.  Don't try to fix me or my life or my problem.  These are not yours to fix.  It is not your job to make me feel better no matter who you are.  And when you try, when you tell me how to fix it, you are saying that you have no faith in me to overcome it on my own.  You are saying that you know better how to live my life than I do.  I'm sorry, but there is no chance that when I reach final judgment I am going to be asked how well you lived my life.  It's my life to live and I need to do it.  I need to figure it out for myself.

Listen.  Just listen.  Cry with me.  Hug me.  Comfort me.  Whatever.  But don't try to take my problems away from me.  They are mine.  They are how I become who I am meant to be.  They are how I grow stronger.  They are mine and I will not surrender them.  They are a part of me and I am less without them.  I need them.  And when I don't need them anymore it will be because I overcame them.  I chose to give them away.  I got everything I needed out of them and gave them back to God.