Holidays are especially difficult for divorced families. My divorce clearly spells out what days each parent gets, and major holiday are flip-flopped each year. I encourage all families experiencing a divorce to get a plan in writing (no matter how nice you seem to be during the divorce... time will tarnish us all).
So, even though it has been 10 years since our divorce and my babies are 22 and 17, I pulled out last year's calendar to see "who got Christmas day" this year.
What I have learned over time is this...Christmas can be any day. It used to kill me to not be able to celebrate the holiday, be it Thanksgiving or Halloween or whatever, with my children on the actual day. When we realized that any day together is good, the holiday became joyous again.
Here's wishing your day, whatever day you get to celebrate it, is happy and healthy.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Get out of the boat
I see the look in your eyes; that look caused by unimaginable pressure and grief, that look caused by helplessness and hopelessness, that look caused by incessantly rowing a boat that isn’t going anywhere. I see the look because I know the feeling.
Get out of the boat.
Days and days I felt like I was rowing a rickety boat across an ocean of sticky muck. And, no matter how hard I pulled, it kept sucking me in. Deep down I knew if anything was going to change, I had to get out of the boat. You have to get out of your boat.
Granted, there is a sense of security in the boat. After all, it seems solid, gives at least some protection at times, and seems to be moving, even if only in a circle. But what I thought was security was actually an anchor pulling me to the depths, robbing me of confidence and beauty and love and health.
Get out of the boat, I told myself. Just step out.
Of course when you do, you feel exhilarated for an instant, ‘til you realize you’ve been in the boat so long you’ve forgotten how to swim. The muck is still all around you and now you don’t even have a boat to keep you dry.
Swim, girl. Swim hard. Get to solid ground. For many, familiar beacons on shore from the past no longer offer any help and disappear. For the first time, you’re swimming in new territory. But swim you must.
Get out of your boat.
Find solid ground.
Trust yourself.
Trust others.
It will be all right. I promise.
Get out of the boat.
Days and days I felt like I was rowing a rickety boat across an ocean of sticky muck. And, no matter how hard I pulled, it kept sucking me in. Deep down I knew if anything was going to change, I had to get out of the boat. You have to get out of your boat.
Granted, there is a sense of security in the boat. After all, it seems solid, gives at least some protection at times, and seems to be moving, even if only in a circle. But what I thought was security was actually an anchor pulling me to the depths, robbing me of confidence and beauty and love and health.
Get out of the boat, I told myself. Just step out.
Of course when you do, you feel exhilarated for an instant, ‘til you realize you’ve been in the boat so long you’ve forgotten how to swim. The muck is still all around you and now you don’t even have a boat to keep you dry.
Swim, girl. Swim hard. Get to solid ground. For many, familiar beacons on shore from the past no longer offer any help and disappear. For the first time, you’re swimming in new territory. But swim you must.
Get out of your boat.
Find solid ground.
Trust yourself.
Trust others.
It will be all right. I promise.
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