Christmas is a time of Regret
When I was a child, my mother was consumed by Christmas cards. She’d spend weeks updating her card list from the previous year. Adding names or removing names. Listing any additions to the family, whether new born children or marriages. Changing any addresses that may no longer be accurate. Marking down who sent cards the previous year, and determining whether they deserve a card this year.
Sometimes she’d send a very simple card with just a signature and the requisite “Wishing you and yours a Merry Christmas!”. Special friends got a picture of our family. Those of executive platinum status received a note with a short summary of the prior year. The typical. “Bart got in trouble at school again. He’s such a bright young man, just doesn’t apply himself.” “Lisa has joined the marching band and has been selected as first chair saxophone! She’s doing very well at school, we are so proud!”
And she had quality tiers for the cards. From cheap box sets (50 to a box) to very nice individual Hallmark cards. They’d all get addressed and lumped into shoeboxes she’d then lug to the post office to mail. Always the first week of December. Then she’d check the mailbox continuously during the next couple of weeks, always prepared to send an emergency Christmas card to anyone she forgot, but who had sent her a card. There were always one or two people who’d get the emergency card. Usually someone new from my father’s job that he forgot to mention. Or a cousin that mysteriously popped up again after years of silence. These would go back onto her Christmas card list. It would take 5 years before she’d remove them, if they never sent a card again.
Out of high school, I tried to keep my own list going. I had a list of about 40 to 50 people I sent cards every year. Some were coworkers. Some were from Governor’s School. Some were high school chums and friends. And some were college classmates. My list began to get smaller and smaller each year, as I lost track of people. My life became very boring. I worked and went to school. What else do I tell people? I moved several times, so never saw my old friends. We have nothing really in common any longer, why do they want to hear that I work 2 jobs and attend classes sparsely?
Eventually I stopped sending cards. I still get a twitch each Christmas season to break out the quill and ink a few notes to old friends. Friends I never see, friends I have fond memories of but no clue where they are. I sometimes think I have Christmas and Thanksgiving confused. Christmas is where I reflect on the people in my life and how grateful I am they are here. It is a time to reflect on the course of the past year and wonder what I have accomplished. It is the time of the year I am happiest and saddest. It’s when I look at myself and ask, “is this all you have become?” And I realize I am consumed by regret.
Regret for not changing jobs. Regret for not finishing school. Regret for speaking harshly to a friend. Regret for not saving more for retirement. Regret for not taking my dream vacation. Regret for losing touch with a friend or ex-girlfriend. Regret is a strong motivator, and a very dangerous one.
A couple of weeks prior to Christmas, Mona gave me a ring on my mobile. I saw it was her and didn’t answer. Mona was the person I was seeing prior to Skyprincess. We had a very lopsided relationship. It was all give on my part, and nothing received. Very unhealthy, so I ended it. She was ‘dating’, which meant seeing different guys, and I’m a one-woman kind of guy. I see no attraction to dating multiple people, and should have seen it was doomed from the beginning.
When we broke up I made it clear it was over. Made the definitive “goodbye” statement, wishing that she’d one day find happiness, along with the reason I’m breaking up by saying “at this time I do not believe you have the capacity or willingness to love anyone.” And that was that.
I’ve come to realize Christmas isn’t just the time for sugarplums and candy canes. It’s when we lose our common sense and try to reach out to someone in our past to regain some sense of happiness. Christmas is a lonely time of the year, and it’s very easy for us to reach back into the past to someone who made us feel safe. Someone who made us feel wanted. Who made us feel alive.
I’ve had that urge many a Christmas. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve picked up the phone and wanted to call Molly, my first love. We haven’t seen or spoken to each other in almost 2 decades. But I still have fond memories of our time together. Of her voice. Of her cute bushy eyebrows. The last I heard, Molly was married straight out of high school and is now a nurse with 2 children. I’ve met her husband, and he’s a great guy.
The phone call wouldn’t be because I wanted to reconnect, but because I wanted to hear how her life is. How her children are doing. I’m sure her son is college age now. Was her second child a girl or boy? How is Eric doing? Still doing computer networking? Are they still in Florida?
And I realize that is probably what Mona is wondering. How am I doing? Can we just talk as friends? And then my second strongest motivator kicks in, guilt. I have no desire to retain contact with Mona. I was hurt by how I was treated during our relationship and really don’t want to be reminded. She’s still a great person, but not someone I have anything in common with any longer. And I have finally found the person I have been looking for my entire life, so why give a false impression to Mona? I’m not available, now or ever again.
But I feel guilt. She just wants to remain “friends”, although I don’t want to. Am I being just a mean bastard? I’ve now written 2 “goodbye” letters to her. The original and another one recently after her series of calls, instant messages, and email. Both very clearly saying “goodbye”. How do you tell someone to leave you be and not be ugly? Being intentionally hateful is not something I do easily.
Mizike
Sometimes she’d send a very simple card with just a signature and the requisite “Wishing you and yours a Merry Christmas!”. Special friends got a picture of our family. Those of executive platinum status received a note with a short summary of the prior year. The typical. “Bart got in trouble at school again. He’s such a bright young man, just doesn’t apply himself.” “Lisa has joined the marching band and has been selected as first chair saxophone! She’s doing very well at school, we are so proud!”
And she had quality tiers for the cards. From cheap box sets (50 to a box) to very nice individual Hallmark cards. They’d all get addressed and lumped into shoeboxes she’d then lug to the post office to mail. Always the first week of December. Then she’d check the mailbox continuously during the next couple of weeks, always prepared to send an emergency Christmas card to anyone she forgot, but who had sent her a card. There were always one or two people who’d get the emergency card. Usually someone new from my father’s job that he forgot to mention. Or a cousin that mysteriously popped up again after years of silence. These would go back onto her Christmas card list. It would take 5 years before she’d remove them, if they never sent a card again.
Out of high school, I tried to keep my own list going. I had a list of about 40 to 50 people I sent cards every year. Some were coworkers. Some were from Governor’s School. Some were high school chums and friends. And some were college classmates. My list began to get smaller and smaller each year, as I lost track of people. My life became very boring. I worked and went to school. What else do I tell people? I moved several times, so never saw my old friends. We have nothing really in common any longer, why do they want to hear that I work 2 jobs and attend classes sparsely?
Eventually I stopped sending cards. I still get a twitch each Christmas season to break out the quill and ink a few notes to old friends. Friends I never see, friends I have fond memories of but no clue where they are. I sometimes think I have Christmas and Thanksgiving confused. Christmas is where I reflect on the people in my life and how grateful I am they are here. It is a time to reflect on the course of the past year and wonder what I have accomplished. It is the time of the year I am happiest and saddest. It’s when I look at myself and ask, “is this all you have become?” And I realize I am consumed by regret.
Regret for not changing jobs. Regret for not finishing school. Regret for speaking harshly to a friend. Regret for not saving more for retirement. Regret for not taking my dream vacation. Regret for losing touch with a friend or ex-girlfriend. Regret is a strong motivator, and a very dangerous one.
A couple of weeks prior to Christmas, Mona gave me a ring on my mobile. I saw it was her and didn’t answer. Mona was the person I was seeing prior to Skyprincess. We had a very lopsided relationship. It was all give on my part, and nothing received. Very unhealthy, so I ended it. She was ‘dating’, which meant seeing different guys, and I’m a one-woman kind of guy. I see no attraction to dating multiple people, and should have seen it was doomed from the beginning.
When we broke up I made it clear it was over. Made the definitive “goodbye” statement, wishing that she’d one day find happiness, along with the reason I’m breaking up by saying “at this time I do not believe you have the capacity or willingness to love anyone.” And that was that.
I’ve come to realize Christmas isn’t just the time for sugarplums and candy canes. It’s when we lose our common sense and try to reach out to someone in our past to regain some sense of happiness. Christmas is a lonely time of the year, and it’s very easy for us to reach back into the past to someone who made us feel safe. Someone who made us feel wanted. Who made us feel alive.
I’ve had that urge many a Christmas. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve picked up the phone and wanted to call Molly, my first love. We haven’t seen or spoken to each other in almost 2 decades. But I still have fond memories of our time together. Of her voice. Of her cute bushy eyebrows. The last I heard, Molly was married straight out of high school and is now a nurse with 2 children. I’ve met her husband, and he’s a great guy.
The phone call wouldn’t be because I wanted to reconnect, but because I wanted to hear how her life is. How her children are doing. I’m sure her son is college age now. Was her second child a girl or boy? How is Eric doing? Still doing computer networking? Are they still in Florida?
And I realize that is probably what Mona is wondering. How am I doing? Can we just talk as friends? And then my second strongest motivator kicks in, guilt. I have no desire to retain contact with Mona. I was hurt by how I was treated during our relationship and really don’t want to be reminded. She’s still a great person, but not someone I have anything in common with any longer. And I have finally found the person I have been looking for my entire life, so why give a false impression to Mona? I’m not available, now or ever again.
But I feel guilt. She just wants to remain “friends”, although I don’t want to. Am I being just a mean bastard? I’ve now written 2 “goodbye” letters to her. The original and another one recently after her series of calls, instant messages, and email. Both very clearly saying “goodbye”. How do you tell someone to leave you be and not be ugly? Being intentionally hateful is not something I do easily.
Mizike
posted by Mizike at 8:00 AM
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