Control and the holidays





I make the same promise each year; that I won't be so caught off guard when the holidays arrive.  Like many things in my life, I used to be on top of it.  I had lists and deadlines.  It's all gone to hell, as I revert to my "all or nothing" thought patterns.  If it can't be perfect, why even bother with it at all?  It was the same  mindset I had years ago when it came to food.  If I even went a smidgeon of a calorie over the little alotement I allowed myself a day, a binge would be eminent.  It was a wasted day.  A day of not bothering to shower or making an effort.  A day of eating and counting and lamenting.

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At the moment I am reading the book  "A Million Little Pieces" by James Frey, wherein he recounts his stint in a rehab facility.  It seems that this thought pattern isn't an unfamiliar one to many.  It struck me that this could explain the "first step."  It's not an easy thing for many of us to concede that we can't be  in control.  We don't want to hand power over to anybody.  However, if we were so great at maintaining control; of being on top of things,  we wouldn't be in the mess in the first place, would we?

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This is a bad time of year for many.  People get stressed and whatever they do, if they're prone to doing it, it will be "too much."  Too much food or spending.  For others, there are endless parties with excuses to drink.  Those of us with a propensity  to indulging need to realize our triggers and accept that the world isn't black and white.  We can't fix it all and it isn't our fault if it doesn't work out.

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There exists a contingent of people who get decidedly passive agressive during this time of year.  They are the yard nazis who keep track of the fact that your lights don't quite cut it.  They'll remember that the same bulb was burnt out last year and requires...fixing.  At this point the bubble over my head has visions not of sugar plums, but of The Shining, and how Grady "corrected" his family. 

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The worst offenders are a subset of women who, once upon a time, were the mean girls.  The bows have to be "just so"because it's the package and outside that count.  I have a theory that these women are just as competitive as their male Wall Street Cohorts, but this is how they indulge their one-upmanship.  Their tinsel has to be the straightest and shiniest.  It's not about the conversation over dinner, but that it's more memorable then their sister-in-law's.  These women are quick to point out the joy of the ugly Christmas sweater, as it hides a multitude of sins.  It's at this point that they'll give a sad smile and pat your sweater...yes, the best red one you have and put on in complete earnestness.   Your one concession to getting into the holiday spirit, now that alcohol and blintzes are verbotten.

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Every neighbourhood has their "old guy" with an encylopediac knowledge that he wants to share.   Oh no, not of anything interesting.  He can tell you everything wrong that you're doing with the shovelling of snow.  He stands at the end of his driveway, shovel in hand, like one half of "American Gothic."  Heaven help the dog that pisses yellow snow in his yard.

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Yes, for us control types, rebellion via an eggnog too many or allowing a Halloween pumpkin to fester is tempting.  Just stick an elf  hat on the damned thing.  You're not getting me, Stepford Santas.  A little anarchy is good; a reenactment of Sid and Nancy is not.

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It's like walking on ice.  We need to be mindful and cautious and we'll make it.