There's NOTHING Holy about Holidays!

Did you ever notice that all holidays seem to have something weird about them? You know the kind of weird that just ain't right? Let's face it, a bunny delivering chocolate bunnies (do you bite the head off first?), candy and EGGS!? A fat little elf plopping down chimneys in the middle of the night (or, if you're in Germany, sneaking around dumping candy in children's shoes in the middle of the night)? Ghosts, goblins and witches, not to mention adorable little things, collecting candy in pumpkins? Green Beer and shamrocks? A cherub in a diaper with a bow and arrow on the lose in the name of Love? Really! What makes sense about any of these so-called Holi-days. (Oh, just so I don't discriminate, do ya really PLAY with a dreidel?!?)

Now, let's get real. What is it that we most associate with Holidays?......That's it, FAMILY GATHERINGS! You now those, the collections of people that we may or may not try to avoid all year long only to dress up in our very best clothes to spend a blissful day with! Yes, those people! I once had a friend whose uncle described their extended family gathering as "a large collection of people who require massive amounts of alcohol, street drugs and medication to function with civility on three days a year without involving the police or firearms." While not all families are like that, the reality is that many are somewhere on THAT end of the spectrum.

Try as they may, families, especially those laced with addiction, are not famous for working with each other in large numbers for significant periods of time (like double-digit numbers of minutes!). Why we use the excuse of holidays for these episodes of torture, I'm not quite sure. the truth is in the Bumper Sticker:

There's NOTHING Holy about Holidays!

However, I do think there is a message in the perceived absurdity. It's for the children. If we didn't have these seemingly petty rituals and things with which to occupy the adults, the kids would have to sit around and watch the grown ups figure out how to interact with each other. Can you imagine if nothing happened after Christmas or Easter Dinner but the conversations between Grandma, Aunt Mimi, and Aunt Lulu? Or, what if the whole afternoon entertainment was left to those three, Uncle Bob, Gramps, and Cousin Charlie? You know who these people are. Can you imagine the fiasco, brawls, arguments or boredom that would ensue if those people or whomever they represent in your world were all that held the family's attention at family gatherings? What if that was all we had to look forward to?

Let's look at it this way: at least Easter dinner/lunch has the deadline of the egg hunt or the candy fest or the first kid to puke from the candy. At Christmas, either we have to get home before the elf gets stuck in the chimney or nobody slept on the Eve and the little ones are so cranky they WANT us to go home! yo can finish the list of so-called holi-days from there.

If we didn't have the innocence of children to keep us all from becoming familiocidal, holidays might be limited to well-policed public gatherings for mandatory rituals to avoid eternal damnation! Otherwise, it could just be too dangerous to get together.

The good news about healing and recovery is that my family is learning to tell each other that we've enjoyed about as much as we can stand of ourselves and that's OK. We love to be together and we love to plan the next gathering, in part, because it means that we're all going to our own castles where we make our own rules and have our own say-so. We don't have to wait until somebody leaves to talk about them because we have better things to do -- we talk about them to their face and enjoy the laugh. If we're mad about something, we save that for after the gathering and really have it out one-on-one until the problem is solved as much as loved ones can solve problems. Then, unless it will throw the Earth off its axis, we let it go (well, most of the time). The purpose of gatherings is to enjoy each other, cook together, eat, entertain the children, do the silly rituals we all love and laugh. Isn't that far more holy? Then, again, we don't do that only on Hallmark days. We do it whenever we want and for whatever reason we want. We may change the menu for Holidays, based on what the commercials say, and the recreation may change, but our gatherings .....they are all about the same. I like it that way. Come to think of it, the Bumper Sticker is right...

There's NOTHING Holy about Holidays!!

Never, Never Hug a Porcupine...No Matter How Cute They Look

Janice wanted so badly to love her brother. They were 5 years apart in age and, to listen to them talk, they grew up in not only different homes, but different neighborhoods that were in different counties on different planets. Her brother was in kindergarten before she was born (living the family's extremely high expectations!). He never saw any of their mother's manic highs and days of endless crying. He never heard the arguments that ensued when their father came home to find the endless bags from her shopping binges or no dinner on the table because she had not gotten out of bed. Her brother only knew that she was the little princess and got whatever she wanted. He accused her of lying when she spoke of a steady flow of men through the house, some of them fondling her while waiting to be "next" with "Suzy," their mother in the bedroom.
As Janice and Jerry tried to talk about their younger years, they argued as though they were both experts on different foreign lands. In reality, they had very few confluent memories of their childhood. They could remember the same house and the same family contexts, but never the same events. When they tried to describe a specific event or holiday or gathering, they would end up arguing bitterly about obvious facts, as though neither one was actually there and both were fabricating the entire history.

They did, however, agree on one major event -- their mother's precipitous death. She was a very vain woman and would not allow herself to be seen as ill, weak or frail. Therefore, real treatment for her lymphoma was out of the question. She was at church one Sunday, took to the bed on Tuesday and was buried on Saturday. Not a word was spoken. While the two children argued bitterly over whether or not their mother was a "screamer," or not, they agreed that the house after her death was deafeningly silent.
While Jerry espoused that their father was a quiet man and great father who was a ball coach, ever ready to teach and to play, a supportive teacher and a great confidant, Janice swore he was a silent, feelingless shell of a man who did what their mother said, regardless of the cost as long as it shut her up.
Though he vehemently and nearly violently denied it, as he matured, Jerry began to reveal more and more of his mother's characteristics. He could sweetly smile through a tense purchase or menu selection, while leaving no doubt that actually speaking to the sales or food service person was obviously beneath his dignity. He would interrupt anybody, friend, foe or stranger to let them know that they were obviously ill-informed and had no idea what they really thought, felt, wanted or needed. After all, it was Jerry's job to inform them of what was really best for them and what they really felt.
Janice had tried. My how she had tried to have a relationship with Jerry. She wanted a brother. She wanted a family. Over the years, she had traveled to his home. She had traveled with her brother. All had become disasters. She would end up either going away angry or feeling battered and bruised by his constant verbal barrage. Either he was correcting her, telling her what she was REALLY thinking or feeling, or outright criticizing her and describing the next impending catastrophe she was obviously going to create.
This last trip was the final blow. Janice had worked hard in therapy to face her attachment to her mother's depression as a driving force for her own depression. She had been years without hospitalization and was responding to minimal medication. She was living her life on her own terms, financially stable, surrounded by friends with whom she was comfortable, enjoying a seasonal garden every year, riding horses in the spring, hiking in the fall and dancing whenever she wanted. She CHOSE to share her trip to a family gathering with her brother. She was resolve to let his verbal diarrhea just land in the trash and pass her by. She was going to imagine a black hole between the two of them into which anything she did not elect to hold would be drawn immediately and irretrievably.
The trip was four days. She made it three before his criticism, arrogance and innuendos of incompetence cut through her armor. When a natural break in their time together came, she simply left a message with the hotel desk that she would get her own cab to the airport and leave early the next morning, rather than riding with him in the rental car. She elected not to answer his phone call as she waited in the airport.
As Janice and I discussed this event, she wanted to find some formal way of "Filing for Divorce" from her brother to gain some form or just or fair closure to their relationship. She did not want to treat him like she had been treated when she had acted like their mother had taught them to act in the past. She knew how much it hurt to have people just disappear from her life. She wanted to let him know how intolerable and unbearable he was and that she was going to sever their connection. By the time I saw her, she had obsessed about this endlessly for over four days. As we volleyed this issue back and forth, I became clear about the BS Moment aat hand.

"Never, Never Hug a Porcupine...No Matter How Cuddly They Look"

For Janice, Life had been a six decade effort to try to cuddle with a series of porcupines while trying to live comfortably on the Tundra! She had survived some of the most difficult losses in childhood, more in adulthood, and was facing more as she continued her journey. Her family, like many, wanted to deny that she was abused as a child and pretend that they lived behind the white picket fence between Ozzie and Harriet Nelson and the Brady Bunch! Nobody "saw" what happened and, therefore, it didn't happen! Nobody chose to grieve their mother's death. Rather, they chose to act as if it just was another day in their lives. Somewhere within her psyche was this screaming child that wanted someone to notice that she was hurting. However, these crazy people called her family were far too wounded to hear her.

As Janice and I talked, I was reminded of how innocent it is for all of us to want to see our families as capable and able to give us what we need (a.k.a. "Eckerds"!!). However, we are all born into frail collections of people who are, by and large, wounded throughout their own lives and struggle just to survive their own woundedness. In the fog and turmoil of all this, innocent children try to dance their innocent dances and live their innocent lives, not having a clue that they are unable to change the pain all around them.

As little children, we do some pretty magical things. If we are hungry, the world stops and food appears. If we are tired, we fall asleep and, magically, awaken in our beds. If we are frightened, we bury our faces in a grown-up's body and the scary thing goes away. All of this is the natural child-like thinking of innocence. As grown-ups, we are forced to learn that things do not go away simply because we do not look at them. Pain does not stop simply because we wish it to. People do not love simply because we need it from them.

On top of that, our families dress up well. We could all show up all dressed, smiling, laughing, saying nice things about each other, and looking just great at Christmas, Bar Mitzvah's, family reunions and other events, even funerals. However, the ruse rarely made it past the exit driveway before some fight broke out, some tacky comment erupted, or somebody got hurt. Somebody returned to the lie.

Many times, in the healing process, we want to go back to these educated, talented and apparently capable people and "teach" them. It seems so very logical. They can maintain such a good act an pull off such good shows, they must be brilliant! Certainly, they can still learn! Right? WRONG! Learning these lessons requires introspection and growth. Growth requires honesty and integrity, which requires a painful look at ourselves. Life for many family systems is primarily about the AVOIDANCE of pain. Hence, very talented, brilliant, capable people, turn into bumbling fools when it comes to healing processes.

My description to Janice and others to whom I've applied this Bumper Sticker is that her family is "just a bunch of porcupines." That's all, just a bunch of porcupines. I can't explain how a capable, competent human being was raised by a group of porcupines, but it happened. Her journey has been one of trying to figure out how to get cuddling, nurturing and warmth from them. News Bulletin: It ain't gonna happen! They're porcupines.

Over the years, Janice had tried to wrestle them to the ground and file each quill down to a nice round point. Not cuddly. She had cornered Jerry and tried to pluck every single quill from his body. Suffice it to say that his attack was only reasonable -- he would have ended up with no defenses in the wild! On many occasion, especially in her youth, she had taken a deep breath, closed her eyes and just cuddled up next to them, taking her pin-cushion treatment and trying to understand why she didn't get the warm fuzzy she thought would result.

Part of her healing would be for Janice to grieve the loss of a "Human" family and face the grief of dealing with the family she had. (Can anyone say, "Have you seen the movie, "Shrek"?) Then, she can decide if she wants to seek out training in handling Porcupines. Zoo handlers probably have special gloves and clothes and face guards just for this. There's probably all sorts of things you need to know about porcupines in general before you ever go in the cage with them , much less approach them in the wild! Then, you need to know what porcupines mean when they do this and that, since they really don't talk human! Go figure! All these years, Janice thought SHE had a problem -- She did. She was trying to do something that required precise training, exact equipment and much practice. No wonder it hurt.

Maybe, if she could see her family as simply being porcupines and grieve the losses that come with that, Janice could seek out a "family-of-choice" to help her grieve her childhood losses, figure out what those needs are in this adult world and begin to actually enjoy getting them met. She'll just have to remember:

No Matter How cuddly they look, Never, Never, Never Hug a Porcupine!

You Can’t Get Grapes at Eckerd’s

Raymond had finally managed to establish boundaries with his family. In fact, he had not spoken to any of them in over six months. He had refused to send money to siblings when they made their quarterly pleas for cash. He simply did not answer the phone for the weeks it took for them to actually hear his message: “I’ll call you when I’m ready. Until then, I’m asking you to just give me some space.”

Raymond had been clean and sober from drugs and alcohol for just over five years, a monumental feat. They continued to offer him drinks and question his “diagnosis.” He had to sneak out of family gatherings to go to Twelve Step meetings, which were the foundation of his sobriety. Since he left home after high school, he had struggled with either depression or anxiety. At one point, he was on an average of seven psychiatric medications to be able to function and get through a day. They told him he just needed a hobby and to get outside more. When he was released from the hospital with medical complications of his last overdose, they invited him to visit with them “to rest.” He was greeted with one day of rest and being served like a king. This was followed by a “family meeting” aimed at getting him to see that his psychiatrist (me) was the problem and he needed to quit therapy, stop blaming his childhood trauma, and get off those medications. Over and over, they had performed the emotional “bait and switch” maneuver of offering love and giving him demands and betrayal.

This time looked different. Raymond needed time and space to focus on his family and primary relationship. He also had to face surgery and recuperation, something in which he wanted his blood relatives to have no knowledge, input, or participation. The six months had been exquisite. His therapy moved forward in ways that had not happened before. His sleep improved after surgery corrected a painful orthopedic condition. He grieved the fact that his family could not be supportive and was ready to think about how to handle the holidays. He could envision maintaining emotional boundaries.

Then, it happened. The phone rang. Caller ID indicated that it was the “safest” of his siblings. The only one who understood half way alcoholism and had not completely canonized his parents and denied the dysfunctional childhood they shared. He answered the phone. The conversation was very nice. They talked about the season and gardens. Only when the question of Raymond’s health arose, did he slip and mention his surgery. The loving tone on the other end of the phone vanished. A deluge of questions, challenges, “How could you’s” and, finally, shaming insults followed. When the phone line finally went silent, Raymond was devastated.

This was a Bumper Sticker Session. (I just realized that the abbreviation of this would be a “BS Session.” What a hoot!) Raymond had spent his life, like many, trying to be “good” enough to be able to get the unconditional positive regard we all crave from our families of origin.

MORAL: “You can’t get grapes at Eckerd’s.” (If you never lived in the South, Eckerd’s was a chain pharmacy like CVS or Walgreen’s.)

If you go to the drug store and demand fresh, plump seedless grapes, you will go away empty handed. On a good day, you can get raisins (shriveled, dried grapes), chocolate covered raisins, grape juice, and artificial grape drink. You can complain, picket the store, beat up the manager and even spray graffiti on the walls. However, you can’t get grapes at Eckerd’s. Even if you buy the chain and put in grapes, it will have to be licensed as a grocery or produce store and will no longer be the thing from which you sought what would have satisfied that deep, painful longing. In the end, you have to leave the pharmacy as it is, go down the street to the grocery store to get the grapes you need. That may be a violation of “all the rules.” However, it’s the only way to get grapes.

So many times, we end up frustrated, hurt, and even battered when we try to make those we love and are bound to by genetics or marriage, or some other life-long commitment to give us something we need. The grief that goes with seeing them as incapable (not bad or wrong) of doing so taps into the inborn drive a child has to cling to “his or her adults” in order to be able to stay alive. To violate that relationship is life threatening. To lose the relationship, regardless of the rationale is excruciating. However, in the end,

You just can’t get grapes at Eckerd’s.