All families have baggage. Each family’s circumstances are unique; even with shared DNA, each individual brings their own experiences, and perceptions of those experiences, into the mix. My family’s baggage centers around repression, judgement, and shame. It evolved over generations, and like a lot of generational trauma, it had its roots in cultural and religious biases, and abuse. We looked like a reasonably functional group to outsiders, and we loved each other as best we could.
But it was hard.
And it made holidays hard. I’m sure I’m not alone in this. Most of our families do not conform to marketing schemes, or religious ideals, or expectations surrounding food. We want to, and we try, and the trying is exhausting, and frustrating, and fraught.
And we cling to whatever traditions we have created, as tightly as possible. And that is exhausting. It makes these occasions, that are supposed to be about family, and food, and tradition, practically unbearable: occasions that are to be endured rather than enjoyed.
My experience with the particulars of my family shifted dramatically after I got married and we started splitting holidays. That had its own challenges, but I got to see how another family — one with different expectations for holiday get togethers — managed the situation.
And then, after my grandparents died, almost a decade ago, the experience of our big holidays changed considerably. It took my immediate family a few years to figure out what works for us: fewer expectations, more outdoor walks (weather permitting), watching football games, still lots of food (but simpler and easier to prepare).
There are as many ways to celebrate a holiday as there are people who celebrate it. I feel like there’s really no way to know this until you’re nearly grown, but it’s incumbent on each of us to decide what holidays we’re going to observe, how, and with whom.
Family traditions can be great, unless they’re not. Go all in with them, or engage with them as you can.
Maybe sleep in and have a lazy breakfast (if there are no small children to celebrate with), or get up early to run and play a pick-up game of basketball. Spend some time with family (the one you’re born into or the one you choose)… or don’t. Cook a big meal, if that’s your jam, or get takeout. (And don’t sleep on Chinese food for Christmas dinner.)
Or, if you need to, ditch the occasion altogether.
I feel like an outsider looking in when it comes to holidays (I don’t like that feeling), in part because for me, holidays have always been about fitting into someone else’s expectations. After basically ignoring last Christmas and Easter (forgotten? blocked it out?), I would like to be more intentional about holiday celebrations, because I like the idea of the winter holidays, at least. I want to spend Thanksgiving with my mom and brother (like we usually do). For Christmas this year, I’d like to send some cards, and have a tree, and maybe plan a tasty, but simple, celebratory meal with friends and/or family. Maybe celebrate with a few meals with friends as they have time. (We used to travel at Christmas, but after a few Covid years, and experiences with the airlines at the holidays, I am, as they say, over it.)
How do I reset my expectations for holiday celebrations and not impose my expectations on others? That will be part of my process, I think… What will the holidays look like? I don’t know. We’ll see. I’m shooting for eating well, drinking enough water, getting enough sleep, and figuring out how to find comfort and joy in holiday celebrations.
Carmen Yount 