Heavy thread alert!
Dear Mum and Dad, brother A, sister C and sister J
Sorry I won’t be coming up to Mum and Dad’s for Christmas. I did invite them to come down to me and I was willing to fetch them and take them home again and include A in the invitation. That would mean he wouldn’t have to spend the day on his own, now C has fallen out with him, and J could spend the day with her husband and children. They might like the space after J almost separated from her husband this year.
For 24 hours I was elated after Dad sent an email to say he and Mum were looking forward to it. I made a cake and bought tickets for the panto on spec and generally let everyone know how happy I was that for the second time in over 20 years I would be spending Christmas with those I love and for the first time in my own home.
Then J rang the next day to say A was working on Christmas Eve and Boxing Day and 'everyone' had decided it was better for me to go up there. After I had recovered my composure, I rang A and it soon became apparent that the word ‘compromise’ didn’t feature in his vocabulary. He didn't want to try to change his leave, he didn’t care that Mum and Dad wouldn't come without him, he didn't care that it meant a lot to me and he thought I was being unfair to ask Mum and Dad to change their routine and spend two hours being ferried to me. He didn't care that they were looking forward to it and hadn't been to my home for seven and five years respectively.
Before the dust settled, Mum rang and ranted at me when I said I hadn’t made my mind up about coming up. I had to ask her to hang up, because I was on the cusp of delivering some home truths that wouldn’t have been helpful in the circumstances.
So here are the home truths:
My GP referred me – without me requesting it – for NHS-funded psychotherapy 20 years ago. My lovely clinical psychologist Sheila Sharkey helped me understand I was the normal one in a dysfunctional family and so saved my life. It has still been a struggle but I have had only one episode of clinical depression since.
Mum and Dad never noticed that I made no friends at primary or secondary school and that I was the odd one out even in the family.
Mum thinks she is a wonderful parent and that parents who kiss, cuddle, praise or tell their children they love them are soft in the head.
Dad was always out doing good works, working in the family shop or playing golf when we were growing up. This extended to ferrying oaps to a day centre on Christmas morning and inviting a couple of waifs and strays that we didn’t know and didn’t see the rest of the year to Christmas dinner. In later years he has noticed how unhappy I was at Mum’s behaviour but this never translated in action.
On my last big birthday Mum gave me a £300 camera and informed me I owed her £200 since the contributions from my parents and another member of the family totalled £100. No one remarked on how upset I was and I came close to crashing the car on the way home.
Neither Mum nor Dad question why neither of their old two children, A and me, have ever formed successful adult relationships.
So – dear family – I have decided not to do family Christmasses any more. I do realise this means that you will think I am being a selfish troublemaker yet again. I am sorry if J feels pressurised to invite Mum, Dad and A even though she would probably prefer to spend the day just with her husband and children. Don't worry, I do have friends who value me for who I am so I won't be alone. I might even go away to somewhere that isn't such a blatant, enforced-jollity consumerfest. I might be alone in years to come but this may just be the push I need to form a lasting relationship.
I realise I am bucking the family motto 'Why be happy when you can have a cross to bear' pace Jeannette Winterson. It is hard to be happy and to live a life in the service of others as you taught me but I do try.
Love from your loving daughter Alicat
*******
and breathe!
If you have read this far, thank you. It has done me good to compose the letter. My parents did their best and love us all even though they are incapable of expressing it. We were well fed and clothed, kept safe, allowed freedom and responsibility and had lots of adventures.
If you reply, please do so in a spirit of kindness to a sensitive, slightly emotionally-fragile, self-critical op.
Dear Mum and Dad, brother A, sister C and sister J
Sorry I won’t be coming up to Mum and Dad’s for Christmas. I did invite them to come down to me and I was willing to fetch them and take them home again and include A in the invitation. That would mean he wouldn’t have to spend the day on his own, now C has fallen out with him, and J could spend the day with her husband and children. They might like the space after J almost separated from her husband this year.
For 24 hours I was elated after Dad sent an email to say he and Mum were looking forward to it. I made a cake and bought tickets for the panto on spec and generally let everyone know how happy I was that for the second time in over 20 years I would be spending Christmas with those I love and for the first time in my own home.
Then J rang the next day to say A was working on Christmas Eve and Boxing Day and 'everyone' had decided it was better for me to go up there. After I had recovered my composure, I rang A and it soon became apparent that the word ‘compromise’ didn’t feature in his vocabulary. He didn't want to try to change his leave, he didn’t care that Mum and Dad wouldn't come without him, he didn't care that it meant a lot to me and he thought I was being unfair to ask Mum and Dad to change their routine and spend two hours being ferried to me. He didn't care that they were looking forward to it and hadn't been to my home for seven and five years respectively.
Before the dust settled, Mum rang and ranted at me when I said I hadn’t made my mind up about coming up. I had to ask her to hang up, because I was on the cusp of delivering some home truths that wouldn’t have been helpful in the circumstances.
So here are the home truths:
My GP referred me – without me requesting it – for NHS-funded psychotherapy 20 years ago. My lovely clinical psychologist Sheila Sharkey helped me understand I was the normal one in a dysfunctional family and so saved my life. It has still been a struggle but I have had only one episode of clinical depression since.
Mum and Dad never noticed that I made no friends at primary or secondary school and that I was the odd one out even in the family.
Mum thinks she is a wonderful parent and that parents who kiss, cuddle, praise or tell their children they love them are soft in the head.
Dad was always out doing good works, working in the family shop or playing golf when we were growing up. This extended to ferrying oaps to a day centre on Christmas morning and inviting a couple of waifs and strays that we didn’t know and didn’t see the rest of the year to Christmas dinner. In later years he has noticed how unhappy I was at Mum’s behaviour but this never translated in action.
On my last big birthday Mum gave me a £300 camera and informed me I owed her £200 since the contributions from my parents and another member of the family totalled £100. No one remarked on how upset I was and I came close to crashing the car on the way home.
Neither Mum nor Dad question why neither of their old two children, A and me, have ever formed successful adult relationships.
So – dear family – I have decided not to do family Christmasses any more. I do realise this means that you will think I am being a selfish troublemaker yet again. I am sorry if J feels pressurised to invite Mum, Dad and A even though she would probably prefer to spend the day just with her husband and children. Don't worry, I do have friends who value me for who I am so I won't be alone. I might even go away to somewhere that isn't such a blatant, enforced-jollity consumerfest. I might be alone in years to come but this may just be the push I need to form a lasting relationship.
I realise I am bucking the family motto 'Why be happy when you can have a cross to bear' pace Jeannette Winterson. It is hard to be happy and to live a life in the service of others as you taught me but I do try.
Love from your loving daughter Alicat
*******
and breathe!
If you have read this far, thank you. It has done me good to compose the letter. My parents did their best and love us all even though they are incapable of expressing it. We were well fed and clothed, kept safe, allowed freedom and responsibility and had lots of adventures.
If you reply, please do so in a spirit of kindness to a sensitive, slightly emotionally-fragile, self-critical op.
