Someone else's Christmas

Currently: thoughtful (Also, just suck it up, camper. This is part of the price of being a we.)

This is the first year I spent Christmas away from my family. In a way, it wasn't really a big deal. I'm not a crazed Xmasophile like some people I know and Thanksgiving, spent in the bosom of many relatives of varying closeness, was only a few weeks before. Also, the currently poisonous familial atmosphere doesn't exactly lend itself to wistful dreaming for ye olde Yuletides of yore. A few times, boys have come to Christmas at the family homestead, and truthfully, it's an experience I wouldn't wish on any sane person, let alone a person that I actually liked. So there isn't any particular reason why I should have been blubbery and silly and whimpering about being Away From My People On This Special Day For The Very First Time.

But I was.

Not that I was crying myself to sleep every night, but I definitely felt more than a small sense of diconnection and loss. And not because I wasn't in the midst of a ridiculously nice, warm, and caring supernuclear family with interesting traditions and great food, cute decorations, and a general excess of holiday cheer. And not that the Christmas days calls to The People weren't irritating and awkward, per usual.

Still, I missed our traditions of stressing out from the presence of the elder generation, staring at each other with nothing to say (well, nothing nice, anyway), being vaguely annoyed at all times, death-march singing marathons, and feeling slightly spied-upon. Oh, and hot pot. Really, it's not that bad, but my family does have quite a way of draining all the joy out of the holidays!!! So it's not longing for misty memories or laughing good times, exactly, but more a missing of the expected and familiar. Also, it is usually the only time each year that my entire family gets together - and not even an extended family, but just the basic nuclear family unit. We missed it in 2007 and that makes me sad.

The weirdness at being with Other People for a family holiday is another story altogether. Even if everything is pleasant and lovely and thoughtful and fun, which it was, mostly, the experience is just...not the same. And I, unfortunately, can sometimes be unexpectedly drawn to sameness and No! Change! Ever! Suffice it to say, I don't think that it can ever be a completely comfortable experience. Though I do expect that it will get easier upon repetition, so the oddness is not also newness, and the sense of outsiderhood is gradually worn away.