#365Gratitude Day 350: Christmas Presence

So this time of year is always a bit weird for me.  Back when I was a kid, I used to love Christmas. It was the one time of year I was guaranteed to see and spend lots of time with my dad, who also loved the holiday.  He traveled a lot for his job, and I didn't see him much.  He used to make a big deal out of the holiday, and I enjoyed it, and sharing it with him.

That turned out to be problematic for me in later years, when I found out that for my entire life, my dad had been a narcissistic, antisocial, monster.  During the mainstay of my childhood he led a hidden life, cheating on my mother with more than a dozen women.  In later years he added to this by embezzling an enormous amount of money from my grandparents' family business, crushing it, and emotionally blackmailing my entire family by pretending to have leukemia, when he never did.  (I could go on at length about my dad's many ills, he was a spectacularly broken, bad person who did awful things to me and so many of the people I loved.  But I won't, because this isn't really about him.)

Anyhow, when all this terribleness came to light, it shattered my family.  For years, I really, really hated him.  I also had a bitter loathing of the holiday season.  Anything to do with Christmas or the notion of returning home to one's big, happy family made me want to vomit.  There's this Folger's commercial that I particularly loathed, and which still makes me unhappy to this day.

Later on, as I made peace with my father, and raised a child with my first wife, I learned to find my joy with Christmas again, to a degree.  After I remarried, that "Re-Christmisazation" process continued.  My wife Missy loves Christmas.  My sister-in-law does, too.  They dance around the tree, singing, while they decorate it.  They love putting up funny Christmas decorations, putting electric candles in the windows, all that jazz.  It's often infectious, and I'll get swept up in it.

But I'm a bit Christmas bipolar, at times.  

Every so often, the old pain about the holidays comes rushing back, and I find the whole thing hollow, and unpleasant.  Then there's my odd disconnect with it, socially and spiritually.  As a Taoist, it's not my holiday.  (I don't really have holidays, per se.  My only day is this day.)  So the commercial, run-to-the-mall, show-your-love-with-stuff thing kinda grosses me out.  It reminds me a bit of things my dad did, who often emotionally manipulated others by buying their affection.  

I know, for a gratitude post, this is pretty depressing, right?  Stick with me, I'm getting there.

That pendulum does swing the other way too.  A few weeks ago, my friends Moliére, Squee, Ally, and I ran a sort of littles-themed Christmas event called the Littles Express.  It was magical.  It made everyone who attended so darn happy.   That in turn, made me happy.

Yesterday I went Christmas shopping for my wife and my sister-in-law.  I did it by myself, and navigated the stores and crowds reasonably.  I got most of that shopping done.  I treated myself to ice cream, and food court chicken teriyaki, both guilty pleasures.  As I was walking around looking for things I knew they'd like, I suddenly found my Christmas spirit again.  It felt great to find gifts for them which I knew would delight them.  I'm looking forward to their surprise as they open them.  Getting stuff is nice, but giving is awesome.  

The Friday after Christmas, I have plans to see an old friend, and to do this Christmas tradition he and I have had for years.  We go to a moderately priced restaurant, order our meal, and when the check comes, we tip 100%, in cash, and write a nice note to the server, and then bolt on out of there, so they are surprised by it.  We love doing this.

So I guess the thing I'm grateful for is that I'm able to make the holiday my own.  Through mindfulness, I can have "Christmas Presence".

#365Gratitude Day 349: Being of a particular nature

So there's this idea about "average people."  They live in a house with a white picket fence, have 2.6 children, a dog, a car, all that jazz, right?

It's probably mostly bullshit. 

But having said that, if there truly is such a thing, I know I'm not it. 

I gave a friend of mine a ride the other day, and she, like me, is highly deviated from that everyday path.  As we drove together, we discussed her not being quite like everyone else.

She and her room-mate aren't exactly dating, but aren't exactly not dating either.  He's kind of like her vanilla dad.  They look out for one another, love one another, and are emotionally intimate, while not being otherwise intimate.  She often tells people that he's her boyfriend, because it's easier than explaining the very complicated true nature of their relationship, which doesn't seem weird, outré, or odd to her.   

But she sometimes forgets that, out in the rest of the world, that makes her an oddball.  

My own life is very much like this.  I'm polyamorous, and a part of a number of different relationships.  Each of these is unique, with its own special wonderful facets.  I'm not going to list them all for you here, there's no need for that. 

But the thing I'm grateful for is this: I don't need to be like those picket fence people.  I can, and do, find my own joys, out of the circumstances of my own life.  

My life is often pretty darn weird.  I have these deep emotional connections to people I'm not related to, except by choice.  It can be difficult to explain to others, sometimes.  I have "kids" who are chronologically older than me.  I'm regularly laid bare, emotionally, and physically, in front of a whole group of people who I'm very entangled with.  

But it's so very enjoyable to be a part of. 

#365Gratitude Day 348: Being okay with not being okay

Yesterday I was grouchy.  

I was out of spoons from a very busy day the day before.  Plus, it looked like I might be coming down with a cold.  (Which today, I don't have, thank goodness!)

My plan was a day filled with activity.  But I just didn't have it "in the tank".  

I got up, ran an errand for Missy, who was working, went and worked out, and realized I just didn't feel good.  

I'm generally a cheery, easygoing, kinda-love-everyone sort of person.  Not yesterday.  The littlest thing made me want to snap at people, say, or think terrible things.  I was downright unpleasant.  I knew it, too.  I decided I needed to pull the emergency brake on the train of my day.

So I came home and proceeded to do the one thing I most needed to do:

Nothing.

I rested, all day.  Watched some mindless television, ate some leftovers, played some games on my iPad, and was wholly and completely unproductive.  I ate ice cream.

It was a good choice.  Today, I feel much better.  

#365Gratitude Day 347: A little beer

No, I mean that literally.  My very kind friend William Little made me own little beer. 

How awesome is that?  It is delicious beer, too.

#365Gratitude Day 346: Being an avatar of absurdity

I've got this weird yin-yang duality going on in much of my life. I'm big and little, often carefree and easygoing, yet also philosophical and serious.

One way this bears out is that I take silliness seriously. I'm not afraid to look or act ridiculous sometimes. In fact, I often relish it.  I love making people smile, laugh, or just suddenly see the world a little bit differently. 

I'm an avatar of absurdity, in countless little ways. I have a collection of oddball socks I wear to work.  I intentionally misunderstand awkward grammar for comic effect. I'm always on the lookout for puns and tricksy language. 

Also, I sure do love funny hats. 

Today I started wearing a new one which my sister in law, M. got me for Christmas. It's a Santa hat with a ridiculously long top tail.  

Several people at the station and on the train this morning have smiled at me or even openly laughed at my awesome, completely ridiculous hat. 

This one woman sitting across from me on the train even talked to me about it.  

"That is a great hat," she said, smiling.

"Thanks," I said, "it's just right for this time of year."

She nodded, then clearly was thinking about what I'd said.  

"Just imagine if you saw me with it in, say, June," I added.  

She openly laughed now. "Yeah, you'll need a different one then." 

I laughed too.