2001:September:28
2001
It's nippy out this morning and no humidity, so it looks like a perfect blue-skyed Colorado afternoon. This reminds me of my favorite Christmas so far.
My own mother is the type that makes a huge, guilt-ridden deal about Christmas. Even though she always spends Thanksgiving with us, she feels Christmas is a MUST-DO. She sets it up months in advance (like she already committed me to a verbal contract last week). If you can't be there Christmas Eve or Day, then she does a celebration the weekend before or after Christmas. There's no escape. (I know it sounds sweet.)
Now let me clarify, I really love the idea of Christmas. Some of my favorite Christmas movies are "Home for the Holidays" (which portrayed the anxiety but also the bonding of families), "Holiday Inn" (I still cry at that studio scene when she's singing on the set), "It's a Wonderful Life" (I saw it first when I was eleven WAY before the overkill)... The thing that sticks in my craw is that my mother makes us act like perfect Christmas. We dress in Christmas sweaters (I now wear a ridiculous amount of red and green because it's so damn silly), have the Christmas music on, and fake that we are one big happy family. We never wipe the smile off our faces. At the dinner table, we each tell a Christmas memory and my mother also puts on a play with the children. I respect her wishes and play along, but I think it's tooooo bizarre that we can't be real with each other. I mean, shit, my brother was/is a crack addict, my sister's marriage always shows its strain...It's just not my scene to act out my Mom's fantasy when it seems so sad to me.
So one year (no this story has no point save a minor one at the end), Mark and I lived in New York. We had just gotten Pads (which is a whole other cute story - to me). Through intense negotiations (really firmness), I got to go to Mark's Mom's for Christmas and forgo my family's festivities all together! It really worked in my favor that I'd never met Mark's family, and he'd met mine several times.
So, this was my first Christmas season in New York, and it was so magical and amazing. I mean I was full of wide-eyed smugness at living in such a rock-cool city. The Macy's was sooooooo Christmas (to my surprise). I was in a mood. So we pack Pads up in her airplane carrier (which tucked in under the seat. She even had to get her own little $25 cat ticket) and headed to the airport. I was a bit nervous about meeting Mark's family, but what could be worse than mine? I was also perfectly OK with filtering everything through him if need be.
Anyway, so Pads flies like a champ on the airplane. We arrive in Colorado. I meet his Mom. She's a funny free lady! I mean she's laughing, and has my sense of humor. I've never met a woman like this. The house they live in is far from the converted trailer Mark described. It is perched on a ledge and has a stunning view of the mountains. There's also a wood-burning stove and a sweet dog. It was great. A crockpot of vegetarian chili was there for lunches all week. The Mom had to go to work for a day, so we had the place to ourselves. Mark's sister and brother were real and fun. We drank a lot of beer. It was just really easy and fun. Mark tickled his sisters and brother (I don't think I've touched my sister in brother in years besides the token hugs). His Mom said "damn" and "shit" and even "fuck" and told great stories.
I remember on Christmas Day, after the tradish meal (which we all wore pajamas and sweats to), I read a mystery novel that I borrowed from Mark's Mom. We had rented tons of movies, so we just had a movie marathon the whole week as well. Pads fit right in. She ruled the dog after a while. There was snow and hiking. It was sooooooooo comfortable. I soooooo understood Mark a million times better after seeing his Mom and his high school. Those were very "A-HAH!" moments. I won't say I enjoyed myself, I'll say I LOVED these people. I LOVED this family. Had I been raised in this environment, I would have been eons different. It was sooooo sweet how they even would joke about the missing "Dad". It was so comfortable. Mark's mom did runes on us and tarot. So fun!
As we were leaving, hard little me cried. I honest to god couldn't stop myself. On the shuttle van ride to the airport, tears leaked out of my eyes at leaving that cozy world (even though I knew had I stayed, it couldn't have lasted forever).
Anyway, the point was, that during this stay, I also delved into Mark's Mom's ennegram books. This was the THIRD big revelation of my self-discovery. I fit into enneagram type 4 with a five or three wing. Reading about that type's traits liberated me. I wasn't alone. There was a whole type of person (a rare type thank god) who feels "brave lil' soldier", "wears their depression like a badge of artistry", "feels like they are the most special thing on earth and no-one knows", basically feels like Cinderalla in that someone's going to rescue you from the chimney-sweep duties. Ahhhhhhhhhh! It's hard to explain unless you're a "four", but I felt such (for lack of a better word) help in knowing that I essentially had a way of acting that was an overreaction and not-real - a defense mechanism. It validated so much for me.
The next year, it was back to fake Christmas with an added element of my Mom curious as to whether her Christmas was better than Mark's Mom (aka insecurity).
