The Box
Oh December…. We meet again. I don’t talk a lot about the thoughts that go through my head during this time of the year. It’s a month that I truly have a love-hate relationship with and just find a way to get through.
As a kid, I loved the Christmas season. It was always a big deal in our house. Lots of family, lots of decorations, lots of excitement. I have vivid memories of waking up to Barbie Cars, roller blades, and trampolines. My parents had a way of making the season magical…. maybe in hindsight a little too magical. But regardless, that all changed when I was in 9th grade when my parents got divorced. Christmas became a high stress, high emotional event in which I was forced to choose sides. It became a contest in which my mom and dad had to give the biggest and the best. Somewhere in between splitting up Christmas ornaments and being shuffled around on Christmas day, the joy of Christmas left me.
Fast forward about ten years and I found myself trying to start my own Christmas traditions. I vowed to put the hurt behind me and focus on the future….. I had my own family and wanted to find the joy again. I chose a wedding date in December with the intention of being able to celebrate an anniversary during a month that had once been so painful. We decorated, we celebrated, we decorated some more. We had our own traditions. For a few years Christmas became a fun time of year again.
In a few weeks it would have been my 5th wedding anniversary. (Key word: Would)
Being that we got married a week before Christmas, the amount of “Our First Christmas” decorations were numerous. We treasured those gifts and proudly displayed them each year. During the aftermath of the divorce the majority of those decorations ended up in a box that became mine. That box has followed me to my parents house, to Michigan and back, and to several other stops along the way. Every year, as I put up my Christmas tree that box shows itself. It is an ugly reminder of what was…. always appearing during a month that should have been another anniversary. It makes December difficult. I hate that box.
I can’t explain why I haven’t thrown it away, so I’m not going to even try.
It amazes me how much we are able to “box up” parts of our past. We all have history that is painful and easier to stuff into a closet instead of dealing with it. Over the last 10+ weeks I have been involved in a small group in which I have had to bring out that “box”. I have had to dissect and analyze so many of the things that I had buried away. There have been weeks where I walk away realizing how far I have come, and there are other weeks that have brought me to tears knowing that so much pain can be brought on by only opening up a box of Christmas decorations.
This past weekend, as I got out my tree and ornaments I found those First Christmas ornaments. I sat and went though them one more time. Remembering. And then, with one swift toss, they were in a dumpster. Never to be seen again. Maybe I have found the strength to get rid of them though this class. Maybe I have just had enough. Maybe I’m just ready to move on.
It’s a blessing and a curse that I love tradition so much. I want things to be perfect and get angry when anything gets in the way of my vision. I hate that so many painful memories are associated with the Christmas season. I hate that I grew up only knowing Santa and that Jesus was an afterthought. I hate that I tried to fix the hurt by replacing it with something new. I hate that December 18th will forever be a sad day.
But at least next year, when I go to put up my tree, I won’t have that box waiting for me.
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