So, when is using the treasured (if somewhat broken) items and traditions a joy -- and when is it time to retire them? -- Anonymous
Oh, boy, that's a tough one. I had--note the use of the past tense--a small box of Christmas ornaments that I hauled out year after year, even though they were not strictly recognizable as "ornaments" by anyone other than myself. We're talking shards of glass barely hanging onto rusted wires. These things were dangerous. But they were OLD and they were FAMILY and they'd hung on MY tree or my PARENTS' tree or my GRANDPARENTS' TREE for millenium, and who was I to break the tradition?
At this time last year, the second Christmas after my mom's death, I sat with that box of broken ornaments on my lap for a long time and asked that question very, very seriously. Who was I to break the tradition of having old, broken things hanging on the Christmas tree? I cried, I held each ornament, I tried to remember who each one had belonged to. I sat very still and tried to get in touch with how I would feel if I never, ever saw each particular ornament again. My meditative state was interrupted repeatedly by The Kitten, who really does not respect such introspective states in anyone other than himself. His persistence reminded me that life is here, now, and demands to be paid attention to. Also, that sometimes I take things too seriously.
And not aarrgghh in a piratey way, either. Aarrgghh as in Scrooge before his conversion. As in the Grinch before his heart grew three sizes. As in every stressed-out parent who's ever vowed to drag the Christmas tree out of the house and cancel the whole damn thing (see recent episode of
Modern Family).
I know I'm not the only one who really tries hard to make it all come together seamlessly during the holidays, but instead constantly comes up short. In this aspect, I relate to the angel with the purple robe. Not because she's an angel, but because she's been dropped and broken and hot-glued back together many times. You can see the cracks in her wings, the broken bits at the bottom of her robe, the chunk missing from her right wing. Some days I feel mended and cheerful, as she is. Other days--yesterday!--I feel as if I've been dropped and broken again, and I'm waiting for the Big Hot Glue Gun From The Sky to come along and put me back together.
This is a little worrisome: all these cracks and breaks, they make a structure less sound and more prone to additional breakage, do they not? How does that translate into our human experience? I know that the repeated stress involved with, say, weight lifting actually makes a person stronger as long as it's not overdone. The secret is knowing when to say "Enough."
And that little angel? I try to remember that she was created with love and delight and goofy joy. I like to think of our own incarnations taking place in the same manner.
Maybe that goofy joy is what I'm trying to recover and pour into these last few days before Christmas.
Thanks for reading.
So my kids are done with school and I'm panic-stricken, almost. I still have shopping to do. The house is a mess, and with the kids home all day for the next two weeks, it will get messier. The needles are already falling off the tree, I'm trying to get deeper into the first draft of a manuscript, absolutely NO gift-wrapping has taken place, and I miss my parents badly.
If all of this isn't a call to slow down and take several cleansing breaths, I don't know what is.
So: Breathe. And again. And one more time.
A Jewish friend asked me a few days ago about the meaning of Advent. A stock answer would be something like this: It's when Christians reflect on and celebrate "the reason for the season," e.g. the birth of Jesus.
I hate that little five-word rhyme, by the way. It's accurate, but strikes me as being almost unforgivably smug. There are lots of reasons for the season in this multi-cultural world in which we live and move and have our being. Families of all faiths and creeds gather. Presents are exchanged to mutual delight and/or horror. Meals are shared, hikes are taken, movies are watched, gossip is bandied about, memories taken out and turned over and given a good polishing before being tucked away for another year. New relationships, new lives are celebrated, and endings are mourned, processed, respected. Or not: family gatherings are notorious for digging up old hurts and inflicting new ones, despite our best intentions.
Dear Mrs. Ditter, My husband passed away three years ago, and I'm going back to work after having been home with our kids the past 11 years. I've decided to pursue freelance writing as it best suits the needs of my family. I've been volunteering at a non-profit radio station for the past several months. I thought it'd be a great way to build up my portfolio, and if all went well, maybe even land a part-time position.
Instead, I've been doing data entry, stuffing envelopes, answering phones. I'm beginning to think this is all a big waste of my time when I could use the time I give them WRITING.
I will not apologize for having spent time at home raising our kids, but I'm not 22 years old any more, I had a career before kids, I've already done all this entry-level stuff and it doesn't feel like it's getting me any closer to my goal as a freelance writer!--Frustrated Family Support
Dear Frustrated Family Support: First of all, ouch. Other than the widowhood piece, our stories are very similar. I had a freelance writing career for many years, stopped working to raise our kids, and have been trying to get back to freelance paying work for a while now. It. Is. Tough.
About your specific case, however, a couple of things jump out at me:
First, you say that freelance writing best suits the needs of your family. Is that because you can do it on your own schedule, or is that because you love writing, you're good at it, and you want to move it from being a hobby/pleasant diversion to being a source of income? Also, you don't specify what TYPE of freelance writing you're interested in. I'm assuming it's business-oriented, as opposed to writing books, but I could be misreading your letter.
Second, I'm intrigued with your choice to volunteer at a radio station. Were you hoping to be assigned writing projects there, such as sponsorship announcements or newsletter copy? If so, I can see why you're frustrated with performing clerical duties.
Third, either you want to pursue a freelance writing career or you don't--It's not clear to me that you're clear, because you say "...if all went well, maybe even land a part-time position."
What I DON'T see in your letter is the following: "I've talked with my boss, reminded her of why I volunteered in the first place, and let her know that as much as I love being here, I need 1) work that is 2) in my area of interest/expertise so that I can 3) concentrate on supporting my family." In other words, if she won't give you writing assignments, you need to find a place that will.
So talk with her. If she promises you writing assignments but they don't materialize, it may be time to move on.
Here are my other suggestions, for what they're worth:
**If what you really want to gain from volunteer work is writing experience, contact your local neighborhood newsletter, if there is one. Or your local elementary school/PTA. Or your church. Or a favorite charity. Tell them you're a writer, you have ten hours a month to volunteer, and you'd be happy to work for them. Be really specific, or you'll end up doing clerical work again. And while that may be the way to work up the ladder at the radio station, it doesn't seem to be the best choice for you right now.
**Contact ten advertising agencies--small, medium and large-sized. Tell them you'll provide twenty hours of free copywriting services during the month of January. One of them might take you up on it, and if they don't send work your way after the month is up, they might refer you to other potential clients.
**Try the same thing with websites that you like, offering free services for a month (or three free articles, or something like that).
**Try the same thing with corporations that are large enough to have communications departments.
**Find and join a local writer's group--most metropolitan areas have quite a few. Libraries often host writers groups on a monthly basis. Bookstores do the same.
**If you can afford it, a writing class at a local community college or university might be helpful (depending on what sort of writing you want to pursue).
This is an extremely hard time break in as a writer, and my heart goes out to you. My own portfolio is so dusty that it looks as if mice have been nesting in it.
Best of luck, and let me know how things go over the next several months.
And as always: If you have a question for Mrs. Ditter, leave it in the Comments section at the end of this post. Thanks for reading!
Mrs. Ditter, Do you have any good ideas for how a family can "do the holidays" when everybody keeps being unavailable? We have some extended family and we used to all get together and it was fun.
Now, the extended family is rife with divorce, two mommies and daddies, kids who would rather play their Gameboys than have a conversation or even shut up and read, others who have weird work schedules and work on Christmas Day, etcetera.
The few of us who are not working, not divorced, not rude are in a quandary. I say, "Let's go to the coast!" He says, "Let's not." She says, "That's just as much work." He says, "What about the dogs?" She says, "Mom, we're Jewish." I say, "So skip the holidays." He says nothing. She says, "Well...."
I say, "I'll ask Mrs. Ditter." -- Anonymous
Dear Anonymous: Ugh. You're in that spot where none of us want to be, but most of us arrive: It's not as much fun as it used to be and WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAVE TO CHANGE, ANYWAY? It will never be that same way again, and that's the cold truth.
So before I trot out any trite ideas about making your own holidays (all of which you will have thought of and quite possibly rejected), I strongly suggest that you take a moment, an hour, a day if you need to, to mourn the death of your family holiday tradition. I don't care if you write a journal entry about it, go for a long hike and rant and rave, sit in the tub and cry, shut yourself in your room and pray, or write the words "Family Holiday Traditions Before It All Went to Hell in a Handbasket" on a log and burn it in the fireplace, chanting long strings of swear words under your breath as the smoke goes up the chimney. The point is, do something to acknowledge to yourself on a deep level that something you really enjoyed and valued is gone.
Okay, with that out of the way, you can move on to making new holiday traditions. I'm interpreting your question to mean you want to do something with your extended family, not the immediate family with whom you live.
One way to do this is to throw a party, invite everyone, and have a good time with whomever shows up. They may be surly and constantly connected to their Gameboys/texting/iPods (oh, those wacky preteens!); they may be anxious about running into an ex-spouse; they may be just as sad as you are at the changes that time have wrought. But if you give people the opportunity to gather, they just might.
Or: Throw a game night. Really. It's fun.
Or: Reserve some lanes at a bowling alley and let everyone know.
You could also send around an email asking everyone to join you in serving a meal at one of the local homeless shelters. Or meet up with you at a local bookstore. Or join you at church/temple/movie theater. Or for a hike.
And finally, your word choice "...everybody keeps being unavailable" is kind of interesting. Maybe the unavailables just don't want to participate. Honor that. Invite them, but don't try to guilt them, which will just drive them further away.
Now, if I've misread your question, and you're just wanting to "do the holidays" with your immediate family, the door is open even wider. Grab a big old piece of paper and over the course of the next week, have everyone write down a few things they'd like to do as a family. Then do some of those things! You may find yourself on a day trip to the coast, or helping out at the Humane Society for a few hours, or roaming around a bookstore for several hours, or at an art museum, or skiing for a day. One or two of the activities will probably score high enough that you'll repeat them next year.
And if it were me? I'd stay home, stock the fridge, make some cookies, light a fire, get a huge honkin' pile of books, and then curl up with the books, the dog, the cats, whoever of the family wanted to join me, maybe some cheesy old movies...and I would just relax. That's as good a tradition as any.
What do you think, folks? Any suggestions?
Anonymous, please let me know what your family ends up doing.
And, as always, if you have a question, leave it in the comments section.
Dear Mrs. Ditter: My wife has a child who drives her (and me) nuts. Whenever we go to her daughter's house, my wife spends the first few hours picking up, cleaning, doing dishes, washing and folding laundry and generally trying to help out. Her daughter doesn't say thanks but instead gripes about my wife's "meddling" and is generally negative about attempts to make her life easier. Is this a mother/daughter thing? My wife is at the end of her rope and doesn't know whether to just quit trying or to risk a fight by bringing up the issue--Supportive Husband
Dear Supportive Husband: Wow! Lots of potential for mother/daughter drama here.
The first thing I would point out is that the daughter is sending extremely clear messages that she DOES NOT welcome your wife's help. So how about your wife immediately stops all housekeeping activities at her daughter's house? This would respect her daughters' unspoken (yet very strongly stated) desire about how she wants your wife to behave while in her house. Key words here: HER house.
Second: Yeah, I know, some women would be thrilled to have this sort of assistance from their moms. Others, and apparently your wife's daughter is one of them, view this as intrusive behavior. She may perceive the "help" as a negative comment on her ability to do laundry, clean the house, be a responsible adult, blah blah blah. Your wife's intention is not the point here; the point is how her daughter interprets it.
Third: You don't specify that the daughter has kids, but I'm assuming she does. If grandkids exist, would you and your wife consider taking them out to a movie, or to a playground, or even around the block several times on their bikes or in their strollers? When my kids were young, I was incredibly grateful when relatives took the kids on an outing, even a short one. Time alone is precious, and it may be that this is the best way to help.
Fourth: Just how long are these visits? If your wife spends the "first few hours" of each visit picking up, cleaning, etc., then maybe you're staying too long if you live in the same town. Try cutting down the length of the visits.
Finally, as to whether or not your wife should talk with her daughter about it, well...do they usually talk about things openly? Based on your reporting of the situation, that seems unlikely.
If your wife wants to talk about it, she could approach it this way: "Honey, is there anything we can do? We'd be happy to take Little X and Baby Y out for a walk, or I can fold that basket of laundry. I don't want to intrude, but I do want to help. Let me know what you'd like from us."
And then if the daughter says, "What I'd like from you is for you to sit down and relax/realize I don't keep house the same way you did/take my children out for the afternoon," bingo. You have the start of a real conversation.
Thanks for asking, and I hope this helps.
This has been a tough year for our family, but we're sticking to our holiday traditions: great big old tree; kitten climbing the tree and causing havoc; Christmas Eve pageant at our church, and then dinner with my husband's family; stockings filled to the brim with ridiculous things like toothbrushes and oranges and hair accessories and tacky magazines and paperback books; presents under the kitten-savaged tree.
One of our family traditions, however, I almost let slip. For years now, we've had each kid choose a charity during the holiday season. Then we send part of the money we would have used on the kids' Christmas presents to those organizations.
For some reason, I didn't want to do it this year. I wanted to spend ththe entire Christmas budget on my kids, not on animals or people we don't know. After all, it's been a tough year for us. We could all use some extra goodies.
My reaction puzzled me, because I think of myself as a generous person. So I sat with my ugly unwillingness for a while, wondering what was underneath it.
Eventually, I realized that I was feeling closed up, fearful, unwilling to let go of what we have and resentful of people who have more.
Okay, brutal honesty time? That is a sucky place to be. A soul-killing place to be. A big old nasty Grinch place to be. Plus, it's no fun. And I don't intend to stay there.
So, onward:
Both kids want their donation to go the Oregon Humane Society.
I want my personal donation to go to Mercy Corps, a Portland, Oregon-based relief organization that operates all over the world. Their projects that provide clean drinking water to villagers in Liberia are particularly dear to my heart--our city had a tainted water issue this past weekend, and I realized, perhaps for the first time, just how much we take clean water for granted.
My husband's undecided at this point, but in the past, his dollars have gone to an organization that brightens the holidays for local families in need.
My parents loved Heifer International, which may be one of the best known hunger-relief projects in the world. Our daughters have donated money in our names several times, and it is a fabulous present to receive.
If this sort of arms-length giving doesn't work for you, you could follow the lead of my Older Brother #2: He visited a local liquidation and deep-discount store, bargained up a storm, and bought 50 raincoats and 50 mylar blankets. Then he added power bars and bottles of water, and made up 50 bags that he's keeping in his car and handing out to homeless people all over town. That's awesome, and it would be just as awesome to do 5 bags, if that's where your budget is.
How about you? I'm looking forward to reading your ideas for charitable giving.
And as always, if you have a question for Mrs. Ditter, just leave it in the comments section.
Dear Mrs. Ditter: I am desperately wondering how to say no when people ask me to do stuff all the time. I work from home (or 'work' as people call it, writing apparently not really being work. I recently almost poked one of my brothers-in-law in the eye over this exact point, but restrained myself--didn't want to spoil a family wedding!). I'm asked to do every voluntary thing in South-East England and I am hopeless at saying no. So now I end up working more hours than I did when I was working in a science lab all day! Help! -- Spineless Writer
Dear Spineless (which I suspect you are not): You are such a nice person, and such a competent one, as well. How do I know? Because people are asking you to do stuff! That means you're good at getting stuff done, and you're polite to people. Admirable qualities, indeed, but perhaps not what you need at the moment.
Now, before irate readers write in demanding equal time for the importance of volunteering, let's remind ourselves that people take on unpaid work for many reasons--some admirable, some more questionable. Many people volunteer because of the strokes they receive for being perceived as selfless, generous, and dependable. Some people volunteer because of the warm fuzzies they experience when making a contribution to something bigger than themselves. And some volunteer because their parents raised them that way. The point is, Spineless Writer clearly has done her share of volunteering. She needs to get back to herself.
So, okay, ready? Let's start with a quick review of Mrs. Ditter's Four-Step Program to Polite Assertiveness and Happiness.
First, remember the following four things:
Saying NO is not mean, dishonorable, petty, or selfish.
Saying NO can be done in an empathic manner ("Oh, I hope you find someone to watch little Bobby. I understand that you need a break.")
Saying NO can be done without being rude or aggressive ("Why the heck would I want to help with that project?").
Saying NO can be life-affirming and uplifting. Seriously! It opens up emotional and physical space for you, and allows you to attend to yourself and your current responsibilities.
Second, practice these two things:
A) Speech therapy. Here's what you do: Find a private space (it can be a quiet room, a closet, the shower, a barn, whatever). Now, stand up straight, take a deep breath, and practice saying the following things out loud: "NO. I can't. No, I can't help with that. I'm on deadline with my book. I'm already fully committed. No, I simply don't have the time available."
How convincing did you sound? Yeah, I thought so. Get back in the barn and try it again, more sincerely this time. Really put some truth and energy into it. If you don't believe the words coming out of your mouth, neither will the people who are listening to those words and waiting to pounce at the first sign of weakness.
B) Visualization. Quit rolling your eyes! This really works, IF you give it a chance. Get comfortable either sitting or lying down, and watch the following movie in your head: Your phone rings, you pick it up, The Voice on the other end says, "Spineless! So glad you're in. The village council has a project that needs handling, and you're the PERFECT person for it." Here's where you stop The Voice cold: "Thank you for asking, but I'm fully committed right now and can't help out. I hope you find someone else to take on the responsibility."
Want to watch another movie? How about the one where you're cornered in the drugstore as you're reaching for feminine sanitary supplies? Roll that movie, too, and as your hand reaches out toward the Tampax, hear The Voice: "Darling, so glad I ran into you. The school board all agree that you're the ONLY person who can run the auction for this year." And now watch and listen as you say, "What a compliment, but I'm extremely busy. I simply don't have time to take on any more responsibility."
Play those scenes, or whatever scenes are most likely to reflect your situation, over and over until you can refuse a request in your sleep.
Third, delete these phrases from your vocabulary: "I'm sorry. I wish I could. Please ask me the next time you need help."
Why? Because those phrases are not honest, and they take away from the power of your honest NO. You're NOT sorry. You DON'T wish you could help. You DON'T want them to ask you next time they need assistance.
Just how you go about deleting them is up to you. I suggest writing each phrase on a piece of paper and then setting fire to it. Woohoo!
Finally, you absolutely are NOT allowed to say: "I suppose I can squeeze it in. Yes, I can help." Write these down, douse them in gasoline, and light them up. Or...whatever method you choose. Perhaps something less violent would work for you.
Of course, eventually you'll come across something with which you really, truly, honestly want to help. And when that happens, you can say YES with an open heart and a joyful spirit. Until then, practice the power of an honest no.
Best of luck!
Questions for Mrs. Ditter? Leave them in the comments section, below.
