Author: Neurtoype Wife, Mary Gable (Pseudonym)
I love Christmas because I relish wonder.
It doesn’t take much more than dirty shepherds stunned by triumphant angels to set my
mind and soul ablaze. Throw in the twinkling lights that invade our early dark nights, and
I reflect with awe that the light has come and shines in God’s children. So, when blended family chaos surprised me many moons ago, I felt doubly robbed. Not only did I grieve the frenzied family vibes, my end of year emotional tank was depleted when it used to be filled.
The Problem
While my family of origin talks, plans, and organizes the holidays—no doubt more than
we should—my spouse’s family communicates more on the fly.
During our first Christmas Eve together, when emotions were piqued, the plan changed
at least three times in a 24-hour period, probably more. I planned a meal. Canceled it.
Only to have to run out for groceries and cook while missing out on my family’s plans.
I took the bullet that year, since it was our first. But, when a similar pattern emerged a
a year later, I pushed back for the sake of my children. Thinking I’d found a way to peace
by hanging at my folks after attending a candlelight service with them, I was shocked to
learn my spouse was sitting at home alone, not with his children, yet unwilling to be with
me.
Not being chosen on Christmas Eve stung deep even though his choice stemmed from
deep seated grief. But as the years unfolded, and my spouse became unhinged the
week before and after the holiday, I began to accept that providing holiday stability for
my children and I had to matter more than grasping for unpredictable marital unity.
Not only do we just not plan together well, when issues pit me against his children, he
freezes like a deer in headlights. Unable to make headway, I tire of fighting to be heard,
especially during the season of wonder. Thus, without a partner to help process
potential micro-aggressions and hurtful comments, keeping a built-in distance leaves
me with much less conflict to maneuver.
How It Evolved
We didn’t set out to spend holidays apart. But when one of his children had a personal
crisis, it made sense for us to separate. After that particular year, it became easier from
my point of view. After years of confusion, settling in with those who love me with ease
on the night of wonder felt paramount.
Is it the best choice? I don’t know. But it’s a choice I made to re-fuel my soul. A distinct
loneliness still haunts my holidays and always will since the father of my children is no
longer on earth and my second marriage didn’t provide the buffer I’d hoped. But when I
push through the sad, a hushed holiness invades. And for a moment, “All is calm, all is
bright.”
A Bump in the Road
After increasingly giving my spouse a wide berth when it comes to scheduling with his
children during the year, I recently got stung at the holidays.
A family member was sick, leaving me with extra responsibility. Knowing he would leave
sometime on Christmas Eve, I asked for a time frame so I could better plan. Thinking I
had till early afternoon to lean on him for help, I was caught off guard when he picked
up his bag mid-morning and started to leave. When I pushed back, he explained his
plan had changed, and walked out the door, unconcerned.
When the new year rolled around, I requested a firm departure date for the next year.
But the same exact thing happened again. With little notice mid-morning, he got
updated information and walked out the door with hardly a goodbye just when I got
another crisis phone call.
Lesson Learned
While originally hurt and angry, I realized that since I give him full sway on every other
day of the year, expecting him to change for that one particular day was naïve. So, this
year, I’ve determined to be out the door the day before Christmas Eve, so I’m not
surprised and shaken on the day I want to savor, Immanuel God with us.
While my spouse may take it as punishment, or an act of unforgiveness, it’s truly self-
preservation. Do I like it? No. Is this what I longed for in marriage? No.
But when I leave blended family holiday confusion behind, I am able to relish the beauty
that is mine. My kids. My grand kids. My parents for a few more years. The wonder of
love comes down.
Looking back, I’m confident I tried for years by giving up what mattered to me in an
effort to blend. But when we couldn’t find a rhythm and confusion reigned, I chose
sanity—sanity for me and my children. And this coming year, I plan to take another step
by protecting both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day in full.
Not to punish. But simply to hold my candle high at a Christmas Eve service and
embrace the unique holy hush that abounds when we sing: “Silent night, Holy night, all
is calm; all is bright.”
Breathing in that glorious wonder is imperative. But in a neurodiverse setting, it requires
creative logistics to keep peace and harmony. At least, it does in my world.
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