Dinner for One

Thanksgiving and Christmas used to be my favorite holidays.  Well, they usually fell right behind Halloween, yet still a favorite.  But in the last few years, I’ve come to dislike all of them.  So, I’ve been thinking why has my heart changed about the three times of year I looked forward to most?  It didn’t take long to figure it out, and part of me just holds my breath as I try to get the huge lump in my throat to ease.  

I loved these holidays because they reminded me of the innocence of childhood, they were some of the few happy moments I experienced, and then for my kids… oh, my God, to see the looks of excitement, joy, anticipation, and happiness on their faces made me try even harder to make those times better and bigger.  Some of my fondest memories are hearing my kids try to negotiate opening presents earlier than scheduled, sneaking bites of the Thanksgiving meal before it was served, and getting a sugar-high from all the candied loot and the excitement from corn mazes, haunted houses, and riding around looking at Christmas lights.

I dread the holidays now because it’s a reminder of the life I no longer have, the children that are now grown and don’t need me anymore, who are located so far away that I’m not even part of their lives. I started crying in the grocery store the other day because I saw all the Thanksgiving items stacked in the center isle… I have no one to cook for.  I used to start preparing a few days before Thanksgiving marinating the Turkey with salt, butter and Cajun spices, and checking off my list to make sure I had all the ingredients to make the full menu.  I’d start the slow prep like cutting the onions and celery, so they’d be ready when I started mixing, and start boiling the eggs, baking the cornbread and biscuits to use for the dressing and stuffing.  I’d be making my list for Black Friday shopping, mapping out a strategy to get the biggest items first before the sun even came up, usually in a divide and conquer plan my ex-husband and I split. Then after spending the first few hours of daylight wrapping presents, Christmas decorating would commence.  While lights were being strung outside, I decorated the tree and the inside.  Which now reminds me… I don’t even know where the decorations I’ve collected over years are.  Did I leave them, did he throw them away, are they boxed somewhere, does it matter? The end of the year was celebrated with Sparkling grape fruit, upcoming wishes, and fireworks.  Then the day after all the decorations would be packed away very carefully, to start again the next year. 

So here I am now… single, no kids, most of my life still packed away in boxes stuffed inside a storage unit being exposed to the heat, cold, and rats.  How did I get here?  I was a good wife. I was a good mother.  The key word is ‘was’.  I don’t know who I am anymore.  I can’t be where I want to be, I can’t be who I want to be, I’m stuck in a life where I’m so lost and very much alone.  Can’t I just sleep until January?  Spending time with friends and their families don’t help… it’s a just stark reminder that I don’t have a family of my own anymore. I know they mean well, but it doesn’t help. How did I get here?

I’m going to try hard to be jolly this season, to be thankful, to be happy during the holidays, but forgive me if the tears fall when I order a dinner for one with food I can’t even eat, or give gifts to others that are not my family. During the holidays, if you see someone else alone, I don’t know what to tell you.  Sometimes reaching out and offering a hand, an invitation, can make a huge difference, but sometimes it can make them feel worse.

Maybe I’ll get involved with some charity organization where I’ll work in a soup kitchen to feed the hungry on Thanksgiving and buy me a new video game to help me forget all about Christmas.

Till next time,

~Jinx

I Matter ...and That Makes Me a Little Less Afraid

For some people, the idea of being alone is scary.  Not because they're afraid for their safety or of what may lurk in the dark, because everyone (no matter how brave they may be) are somewhat scared of those things.  That's only natural.  Bravery is facing those fears.  What's scary is the idea of not mattering. Yet, we think our value is hid in the physical presence, but I'm learning it's not.

I come from a large family, having grown up with five brothers,  yet within that crowd I was always alone.  I mattered in as much as I was a care-giver, I had a function, and fulfilled a need.  I helped cook, clean, nurture, protect and defend, but as an individual I had no value, I didn't matter.  How do I know?   Because I left them behind, walked out of their lives, and my absence made no difference.  I'm still not a part of their lives though they all live in the same town, all within a fifty mile radius. 

I was married for nearly twenty years, and while my husband was my best friend and I know he cared for me, even within that union I was alone and didn't matter.  Again, I fulfilled the function as a mother, wife, care-giver, provider, and partner.  But when I walked out of that marriage, my absence made no difference, I didn't matter.  His life continues as it had, perhaps even better now that he doesn't have the responsibility of me. I'm no longer a part of his life.

To some extent my children no longer have a need for me.  They are now grown and off living their own lives.  They love me and I matter to them, and in that understanding, I find value.

When I first moved out on my own, I think the thing I feared most was truly discovering how little I did matter in this world.  I gave everything to it and the people in my life, and it really hurt to look around me and see their absence.  But, I also discovered I wasn't as much alone as I thought... because there were a few beautiful people who helped dry my tears, reached out to give me a hand, embraced me in a genuine hug, and showed me - not with their words, but with their presence - that I mattered to them.  When in my pain I tried to push everyone out of my life, they refused to go.

Here I am in a new year, and though I'm physically alone most of the time, I'm never truly alone, because to these few beautiful people, and my children, I matter ... and that makes me a little less afraid.

Till next time,
~T.L. Gray