Holidays have always been hard for me as an adult.
A Year into Therapy and I’m Like A New Woman … Managing the Same Life Challenges
My expectations for Easter have always included all the family, food, and egg activities and games on a day of sun, fluffy clouds, and a cool breeze. I wonder if these expectations stem from my childhood experiences with literally all of that, to now social media and YouTube videos of the same things as I watch longingly, for that “good ol’ days” feeling.
As an adult, Easter has been a little hit and miss towards my expectations. Coming from a small immediate family, dad, mom, one sibling, me, and no grandchildren, I’ve had to seriously adjust my expectations.
Instead, it’s been me fighting a pity party of what I don’t have and how to accomplish that warm and fuzzy feeling from childhood despite that.
From hosting, to going to my parents, spending time with my friend’s families, and celebrating with the little ones in my previous profession, I chased those fluffy clouds and confetti & flour filled eggs to again achieve that easter feeling.
The Week Leading Up to Easter
This year, Easter would be at my grandma’s. After a few years of isolating, mami felt comfortable to get together down her house with the immediate family, including my uncle with special needs, and she was planning it.
When mami plans things, it’s a very intense process. Not like a, fun “let’s work on this together” kind of planning, cue the whimsical montage of mom and daughter running easter errands and laughing. More of what feels like “this is what we’re going to do, I plan everything the way I want it to be, and you show up and participate in what I have planned for you”.
It’s a very intense sort of planning session, where we’re expected to answer the phone call or text for every change in detail, to discuss it down to the minute, literally. And if we briefly answer or don’t call back, the next phase is manipulation, getting yelled at for how important communication is and guilted with needing to answer more because mami needs to hear from her kids, even if the whole conversation is mami talking.
I worry I’m painting this picture of a spoiled little brat when it feels like the most subtle, covert, divisive planning. Hidden behind it all are adult children yearning to have their emotional needs met. To be included in the process instead of being given a figurative list of what to do and what not to do. An unspoken laundry list we’ve all been versed in out of fear of triggering mami. On the flip side, I wonder if this makes more sense than I realize and I’m still trying to prove to little Doña, it’s not your fault.
Easter Sunday
The Morning of …
Sunday morning, I woke up from a similar dream I had a couple times earlier that week. Being in a group of people, wanting to speak up about something and literally being unable to speak out loud. Instead, my body starts trembling ever so slightly, not necessarily noticeable, but an earthquake, 7.1 on the Richter scale, on the inside. Shallow breaths ensue, heart beating in my chest and ears, and I go to speak my opinion, and my barely audible voice comes out, breathy and shaking. And I’m trying and trying to speak up, but can’t.
This is one of the tamer dreams I’ve had before holiday gatherings. I dream very vividly, especially when I started taking my psychotropic meds. The bad dreams are usually what starts the, “I don’t think I can go” spiral. Then I start overthinking previous discussions with mami, previous holidays, good and bad moments, and I try to decide what is best for me. To go or not to go. And I feel like shit.
I talk to my brother, get my thoughts out, and his repetitive short sentences of encouragement persuade me to get in the shower and get going.
Family Time
Getting to Grandma’s, it’s a beautiful day. Blue skies, with fluffy clouds and a cool breeze. It’s nice to be back at my grandma’s. It’s nice to see my family together after years of not gathering.
An intimate group of 6 with music, lawn games, prayers, pizza, easter eggs, and conversations. A beautiful quiet easter celebration.
Meanwhile, in My Feelings …
For the longest time I felt like there was something wrong with me. I felt awkward in groups. It’s improved as I’ve gotten older, but still very much a part of my life.
As I settle in at my grandma’s, a wave of discomfort overcomes me. I’m now hyper aware of the family dynamics as neurodivergent conversations pick up with repetitions and special interests and focus on caring for grandma in her seniority is as delicate as a newborn baby. For the most part it’s quiet. It’s always quiet now.
Papi and I start playing yard games while mami tends to the kitchen and my grandma’s needs. A time of great relief and relaxation for me. I don’t feel mami’s concerned eyes on me or my papi out of urgency for us to be careful, I’m engaged in an active game so I’m burning off the energy from my anxiety, and I’m doing something I love the most in the world, having fun with my papi.
The Presentation
This next section I have been dreading, even days after easter, yet still as I write this. I’m fighting myself to not avoid it by distracting myself with anything near me as anxiety begins arising in my body. Mantra time: I’m safe, I’m okay, I’m loved.
It’s presentation time for mami. Every holiday, mami has something she wants to contribute to the event. Usually something religious in nature. But always demanding of everyone’s undivided attention. When it’s the immediate family, mami is more aggressive with her list of rules on how we are to listen to what she is about to present to us. When others are around, mami smiles more and sounds happier. When it’s the immediate family, mami gets mad, telling us how rude and ungrateful we are if we don’t respond the way she wants us to. If we don’t respect her.
Pause for another mantra break. I’ll be back …
As I’m recording mami’s presentation about the easter egg hunt she has planned for us, which lasts about 5 minutes, mami only has mine and grandma’s attention. Special interest conversations and lawn games continue. It’s a beautiful moment really. All I’m doing though as I’m recording the beautiful moment, is absorbing mami’s every word, intonation, change of expression, and eye movement. I can feel her frustration as I’m waiting for her to say something to those not paying attention. And she does, but in the subtlest way. She’s holding back. How does she do that? Why is she putting on a show in front of the others there?
The Days Following Easter
@mama.niic healing the mother wound isn’t for no weak a$$ beeches 🙅🏽♀️😂 #dontcry #healing #motherwound #fy #moms #momsoftiktok #momssupportingmoms #trauma #fyp #healingtiktok #thearpy #advice ♬ Rock and A Hard Place (Acoustic) – Bailey Zimmerman
The days following a holiday are usually times of quiet processing. Sticking to myself more, doing things that comfort me externally because internally I’m trying to detangle a web of memory and emotions.
I grew up in a family with addiction, mental health challenges, and secrets. No family is perfect. The grass is greener on the other side. I KNOW. Why is it so hard for me to be in the moment and enjoy it for what it is? Aren’t I getting in touch with my authentic self and feeling these feelings I had suppressed for years instead of running away from them? Because of my discomfort I was running away physically and emotionally from my truth and my family the whole time.
It took me 2 days to work on a video for social media to share with family and friends. Watching the video of mami’s presentation over and over … and over. Rewatching mami and sitting with my emotions and tears. But from it, a beautiful video of beautiful moments to last a lifetime. The remaining turmoil tucked in safe, like a child in her cozy bed.
Watering the Grass on My Side of the Fence
As I’ve adapted throughout the years, I find ways to fulfill my inner need for what easter day is to me. I’m blessed to be Doña Monica in many children’s lives, so I find ways to spend time with them. Sometimes with friends. Sometimes with extended family. Sometimes going to church. And sometimes, alone. And I’ll watch videos of YouTube families and how they celebrated it with their kids.
And this, this is why it’s important to me to take this time to work on myself. Because this is 2 weeks of my life every holiday. A week of anxiety followed by a week of depression. And it really affects my life. Next up is Mother’s Day. The toughest holiday of them all.
Thank you for joining me on this journey. Do you relate? How do you work through these situations? Comment down below.