Holiday Blues

I moved to Florida in 1988. Back then, I lived roughly 1,700 miles away from my family. It was the first time I was on my own. It was hard. I spent the first six months living with my uncle's new wife and son and then with her sister. I then moved into my own apartment. Some poor choices on my part led to a strained relationship with my uncle and his new family, and for the most part I was on my own.

It was difficult. And my boyfriend at the time made it moreso. Let's just say I don't have the greatest taste in boyfriends. This one put me through some seriously bad times most people don't get to experience. I broke up with him about 9 months after I moved to Florida (he'd followed me to Florida). I would have done so earlier, but it was so scary. Having come from an agricultural/military/university town in a relatively remote part of the United States to an urban metropolis on the mainline of one of the busiest interstates in the U.S. was one thing. Coming from the Southwest where the culture was generally all inclusive and generous to the Southeast where the culture had visible boundaries and was seemingly 'watch out for #1', was entirely another. Being on my own, 1,700 away from all I've ever known, without anyone I could really rely on (my uncle was on ship duty at the time and my aunt's family had their own concerns to take care of), terrified me.

But I made it. Almost too well. Because 8 months later I met another man, one who was kind and fun to be around, and good looking, very good looking. And the next thing I know we're having children and getting married. Almost too quickly. Now this man has family! He is the baby of 6 children with seemingly hundreds of aunts, uncles, nieces, and nephews within a 100 mile radius. So, going from a family of 4 to a family of hundreds was...overwhelming.

My sister and her family moved around, Texas, Colorado, Texas again. And not long after, our parents followed her to Texas. They live within biking distance (if they were so inclined) to each other. But it's still 900 miles away from me. Now don't get me wrong, I love my husband's family. There are some I am very close to and others not so much. But holidays are done very differently from what I am used to. I've tried acclimating, but I don't know.

I wonder. Is it my innate stubbornness? Or do I simply want to be with my family? See, every holiday, they all get together; my sister, her family, our parents, my sister's in laws (parents and siblings and children). Or is it I feel that the majority of the effort of making the holiday spirit for my little family is primarily up to me? I've got a laid-back husband. Very laid-back. So laid-back he is in danger of being comatose sometimes. His idea of Christmas shopping is 12/24. No kidding. So, I do most of the shopping, shipping, making sure we get the tree, get the kids to decorate, etc. And by the time Christmas comes, I am so NOT in the holiday spirit. Why? Because we are all so solitary. I've tried doing activities as a family, but it usually ends up me and the kids. Which is fun.

I guess it's that I try too hard. I try to make it good for my family, but for all my trying something is still missing. My family.

I miss my parents, sister and her family, and it is never more evident than during the holidays.