Well, my dreams of a merry Xmas were quickly undone. At the exact moment that I entered the last blog post, the ED daughter and my husband started a screaming match over nothing. The timely destruction of my lovin' feelings led me to flip out and behave badly as well. Screaming, shouting, vicious, growling peccaries.
We headed north to my mother's home for Christmas dinner. On the one hand, it was on time. On the other hand, there was great sadness (second Christmas without my father) and moodiness (on the part of siblings). One brother, who has hated me since a phone call expressing hurt at the airport (he is otherwise out of contact and unavailable) called and was upset that I passed the phone to my mother. Hurt passed on.
Since then, he has not given me any indication that he has any respect or interest in me.
I still manage to feel hurt at family gatherings (update 2012: much of the above continues to haunt me)
Husband's theory: my family is two cups of American Gothic farmer, a dash of Garrison Keillor stoicism and a gallon of silent Irish grudges tossed in. Due to generations who were cramped together through long, bitter winters together, we are never comfortable verbally expressing, even slightly, any hurt toward the person who has upset us.
I am different because I learned from my education, my dramatic Mediterranean friends and unique life experiences to confront head on, talk out and resolve. A useless skill if no one can recognize it as a strength.
Thus, my eternal frustration at family gatherings.
Cold symptoms are worsening. . . I'll stop here before I say something that I'll regret. What would the "American Gothic" couple have done, how long would they have stayed together, in today's society?
We headed north to my mother's home for Christmas dinner. On the one hand, it was on time. On the other hand, there was great sadness (second Christmas without my father) and moodiness (on the part of siblings). One brother, who has hated me since a phone call expressing hurt at the airport (he is otherwise out of contact and unavailable) called and was upset that I passed the phone to my mother. Hurt passed on.
Since then, he has not given me any indication that he has any respect or interest in me.
I still manage to feel hurt at family gatherings (update 2012: much of the above continues to haunt me)
Husband's theory: my family is two cups of American Gothic farmer, a dash of Garrison Keillor stoicism and a gallon of silent Irish grudges tossed in. Due to generations who were cramped together through long, bitter winters together, we are never comfortable verbally expressing, even slightly, any hurt toward the person who has upset us.
I am different because I learned from my education, my dramatic Mediterranean friends and unique life experiences to confront head on, talk out and resolve. A useless skill if no one can recognize it as a strength.
Thus, my eternal frustration at family gatherings.
Cold symptoms are worsening. . . I'll stop here before I say something that I'll regret. What would the "American Gothic" couple have done, how long would they have stayed together, in today's society?
