There are packs of sparkly Christmas cards on my desk. We have a Christmas card list brewing-they are mostly his friends and family. My list is small because my coterie is very small. I've left a lot of people behind, or they've left me. Regardless, the list is small and grows smaller by the year. Sometimes the idea that my list has dwindled makes me happy-controlling my emotions and the entrance of others around me is vital to my self-defense. Sometimes, though, it makes me sad-I do this, I know I do this, and when I die old and alone I'll have no one to blame but myself.

This year a few care packages went out with cards in them. Those names are not on my list, but their cards had an early exit point from the house. I hope the cards made sense. Some cards will go out as e-cards, because e-cards make us laugh.

My father, stepmother, and stepgrandmother Nobu are crossed off the list. We'll be seeing them just after Christmas and we all agreed to exchange gifts then. My stepmother and Nobu handmade us a few Christma ornaments, which they sent over with a Christmas card a few weeks ago. We responded in kind, with Christmas ornaments from Harrod's and a sparkly glittery Christmas card for them.

I have a few friends on the list that are card bound. I have my father's crazy Japanese mother and my cheap uncle. I have one or two colleagues that will be getting cards.

And my maternal grandmother's card was snuggly wrapped in a cardboard box with a mug and a birthday card. Her birthday was yesterday. I didn't call. I didn't think my call would be answered and I worried it would be. We communicate via letters only-she'll send me a long one which carefully mentions nothing about the family, I send back a thick stack of pictures of Angus' kids, of Gorby, of our holidays.

And then.

And then....

I don't know what to do about the other.

We haven't spoken since January. I got a stroppy voice mail in the summer. It's been complete and total silence and that's keeping me comforted. The phone, it is my profession. The phone, it is also a weapon.

Maybe the truth of it is we have nothing to say to each other. Maybe we don't want to hear each other's voices. Maybe we're both engulfed in the martyrdom of our own private issues, or own private angers. We cannot talk without fighting, and I don't want to fight, I don't even want to talk. Maybe we cannot forgive our tresspasses-I'm talking to someone. You're insensitive. I don't want you in my life. That's fine I don't want you in mine. My year has been hell. Your year could never be anywhere near as bad as mine.

I would say that you win, but the competition is not interesting to me.

I love you but we're not so good for each other.

I hold glass ornaments in my hand and spin them round. I stare at my blurring whirring reflection and debate the point of it all. Then, like a switch, I shudder and turn it all off. Most of my self-defenses are under examination but this is one I can't live without.

I've spent my life trying to be the good child. I worked so hard to be loved by you, to be lovable. I spun my wheels to please, I lived for approval, I throbbed for acceptance. I never missed a birthday, I never missed a holiday, I never missed Christmas, I never missed a thank you letter. I was the good child...and still I lost. Good child...fuck. Being the good child never got me anywhere.

And this is where I'm struggling. I'm so fucking angry with you and you're so fucking angry with me. I'm fine to not hear from you again (I say ever, my therapist says for now, maybe there's a middle ground or maybe my stubborn streak will rule, I don't know). But there's the filial piety coming in. There's the urge to do the right thing, to be the good girl, to be loved. My head battles itself.

Fuck you, I don't want your love.

Oh yes I do.

No I don't.

Fuck you, too.

Angus says, quietly: Maybe you should send a card.

I think: Ironic, isn't it? You hated him so, he's one of our fenceposts, yet he's been the one with the duct tape and the olive branches.

So all around me is Christmas. Our Christmas tree goes up soon. The decorations are draped over the spare bed.

And the Christmas cards await us.

I think I know how the outcome of this will be.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 10:21 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
Post contains 810 words, total size 4 kb.

1 I was the good child too...still try waaay to hard to be. You summed it up perfectly, I could not have put that together as nicely and true as you!

Posted by: Steff at December 06, 2006 02:30 PM (uKuUC)

2 I love you but we're not so good for each other. The first part of that is encouraging to read. Years ago you wouldn't have expected to be where you are with your Dad now. I hope years from now, you and your mom will be close too. Duct tape and olive branches are good.

Posted by: Solomon at December 06, 2006 02:45 PM (x+GoF)

3 I'm with Angus. Life's too short to be in a family argument for long. Be the better person and offer your card first. Thanks for the nice comment on the snowmen. They are my favorite part of that tree!

Posted by: kenju at December 06, 2006 02:46 PM (L8e9z)

4 I'm a stubborn bitch, you know that. I'm still kind of weirded about the whole talking to my mom thing. It bugs a little. But if you choose to never talk to them again, I got yer back. You're my sister. Not bratty mcpornstars.

Posted by: statia at December 06, 2006 03:27 PM (NsnoE)

5 It's a mine-filled relationship. My first thought was to encourage you to send a card. You don't have to do anything but sign your name, or add a basic "thinking of you" message. I know, you may be screwed either way -- she sounds like the kind of woman who would twist anything the wrong way -- but Family rarely makes sense, and filial duty goes with that. Sending a card doesn't have to make sense, and it doesn't imply surrender, nor does it say that you've won something over her. The point is not the battle between you and her; the point is your battle for *you*. _Your_ peace of mind. Not hers. Pooh on her. Just my two cents. best, L

Posted by: lynd at December 06, 2006 03:52 PM (2F9Ak)

6 You have to do what you really feel is best for your sanity. I haven't spoken to my biological father in 4 1/2 years and I'm better for it. He still controls a lot of my behavior, specifically my ability to control my anger, but things are much better than they were. Letting him back into my life, even in the form of a simple Christmas card would likely create a Domino effect that I wouldn't be able to stop and it would be very, VERY ugly.

Posted by: girl at December 06, 2006 05:03 PM (z6Kyx)

7 I can understand Angus' role with the duct-tape and olive branches, for I served the same purpose between my wife and her mother. Happily, things are much better between them now than before. The difference is, my wife understands that her mom is the way she is just because that's the way she is, and she can't change that. What she CAN do is not let her mother control her or her life, and that's when the healing started. A workable relationship, but with firm boundaries. Hopefully someday things will improve between you and the "other" family member. Obviously now is not the time, and it may be quite awhile before it is even possible, but it can happen. And when it does happen (I know, I'm just thinking positive) you will realize that you have just won a major battle.

Posted by: diamond dave at December 07, 2006 02:31 AM (eAC/x)

Hide Comments | Add Comment