It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

... and I survived! Another holiday at my parents' with my entire family. (Mom, Dad, three brothers, two sisters-in-law, and six nephews and nieces between the ages of 3 to 10. And that's not counting the extended family!)

Here I am, at 41 years old, feeling that maybe I've finally grown up. I was able to enjoy being with family without getting all my emotional hot buttons pushed. I was able to see our dysfunctional elements and not feel stressed about it (mostly- I still felt mild annoyances from time to time.)

I really think that the letter I wrote to my parents helped. I mentioned in my last post that I intended to write them a letter saying all the things I would like them to know. And I wanted it to be full of love, and appreciative, and thankful.

So on the first day of my stay with them, I sat in their living room and wrote it out on my laptop. I struggled slightly- sometimes it was hard to keep the "yeah, but's" out of the letter. But I did it- I wrote about all the things I love about my parents, the things I appreciate. I told them a little about my life and how happy I am with it. I explained why I felt that we were sometimes distant. Some of the things I wrote surprised me, because I don't usually spend a lot of time thinking about the positive aspects of my parents. I was happy with the outcome of the letter and decided to give it to them as part of their Christmas present.

Then, surprisingly, I had trouble actually finding the right time to give it to them. I decided I couldn't give it to them during the entire family gift exchange. And each time I thought about handing it to them, I found I felt anxious and nervous. That just figures. Still struggling with how difficult it is for me to express emotions. It's a good thing it was in writing, because I never would have been able to say these things verbally.

I finally decided to give them the letter as they headed off to church on Christmas morning. And I was a little bit nervous the entire time they were gone. When I heard the garage door opening when they returned, I felt nervous butterflies in my stomach. I'm not sure why- it's not that I thought the response would be negative. But I was uncomfortable about having to face any type of response.

My mom came up the stairs, gave me a hug, and thanked me for the letter. She said "I needed that." She had read the letter in the car. My father asked her to read it aloud, and she couldn't. So he read the letter separately when they got home. He never said anything about it to me, but I didn't think he would.

And I felt lighter.