My Holiday Letter to Santa (As an Adult)
“How about we do an activity together Jane?”
I shrugged my shoulders with hesitant resistance, and apathetically responded: “Sure.”
“I want you to draw me a picture of your family. Whatever image first comes to mind, just put it all on paper.”
This was only my third visit with this new therapist, in the ever revolving round up of shrinks that had been deemed ‘acceptable’ by my parents. Before her, I had already exhausted more than a handful of therapists whose official diagnosis of me all came down to five words:
“Difficulty adjusting to life circumstances.”
Or more clinically put, “Adjustment Disorder.”
Or even taking it a step further, as my parents and family saw me, “too complicated and officially banned from all future family functions, especially around the children…please take caution around the children!!” (With extra emphasis on the latter).
Although I felt the technique to be a bit juvenile, I obliged anyway. In fact, I always played along, appeasing every request of the therapist at hand, playing into his/her every whim. I was perhaps, the epitome of what a perfect patient would entail. Never too clinically ill, but always just diagnosable enough, to require some sort of psycho-social intervention.
Ergo, I drew the same family portrait once more.
My mom and dad on one side; close by, but just far away enough, to create some distance from my sister and I. Secure in their bond as partners, yet, always on the brink of crumbling from all the secrets that were stored away beneath the surface. Secrets that the other had no knowledge about, but I saw it all. That was the role I sort of fell into within our family.
The Holder of Secrets.
The explanation that followed was always the same as well. My parents are a unit together, standing solid and supportive against all obstacles, while my sister and I, are our own unit. Bordering on co-dependent most times more than not, but regardless, always a unit — it was us against the world. We have always been each other’s “person.” Until…,you found your “forever person.”
Fast forward to the present.
We are all living together, as you both were kind enough to take me in. I have always felt more like a burden or an intruder, living inside other people’s stories, merely because I have yet to find my own; or more so, because I am too afraid to live out my own.
These words hurt my soul to even be put onto paper, but after all this time, I must speak my truth. During the time that you both have been together, and now, with the months that we have all lived under one roof, I have once again, resumed my poignant role of “Holder of Secrets.”
Occupying the same space resembles more of an obligation than anything. I never know what to expect in the atmosphere that breeds this relationship. One minute we are the three musketeers; the next we have rules to only speak and act towards one another during said times; and the next, we are walking on balance beams trying to navigate a new kind of normal. I never know when things will be good, or bad even, at this point. Who I will come home to, who I need to be sure to wait up for, or perhaps my favorite, how to plan my entrances and exits accordingly.
Home doesn’t feel safe for me. Instead, my life at home resembles much of how a child would feel if her parents were constantly fighting and at odds with one another — one minute lovers who have endless future plans, and the next, estranged adversaries who have decided to part ways and abandon ship, (lasting for at least the hour, that it takes to relay the current travesty of the situation to me). You both have rightfully earned the title of “mommy and daddy” for me. Not necessarily by choice, but instead, due to unspoken rules and cultural obligations.
The relationship “mommy and daddy” have may not be conspicuously unhealthy and/or toxic, however, it is. With the endless back and forth of emotions; moving in and moving out; the cycle of parting ways and reconciling; the silent nights versus the overcompensation of bold actions and endless words, that quite frankly, make me want to hurl because I feel so sick and disgusted from it all.
I’m suffering. Can’t you see, that it all affects me. Even though I happen to be an innocent bystander in all this, you have all already decided the role that I must adhere to. Again, aligning perfectly with the role I have always played within our family.
Holder of secrets.
Peace keeper.
Mediator.
Counselor.
Fixer.
While in the midst of all this, no one can see that with each secret kept, each fight mediated, each treaty signed and obliged, each eye turned blind from the underlying chaos breeding, my own essence and soul is slowly disappearing.
“Be supportive Jane.”
“Make sure you help them fix it.”
“KEEP THE PEACE, even if this requires lying…”
“Please make sure they stay together.”
“I just need you to understand from my perspective.”
Or perhaps the one that never fails to completely obliterate all that is my spirt and essence:
“I feel like I have nothing to live for anymore; no reason to wake up in the morning. Just promise me you will fix it.”
This is how the conversation with my mother always goes, after hearing that things have gone sour again. That you both don’t have plans to marry, but instead, to part ways (until of course, this once again changes). We are all doing nothing more than aiding and abetting in this endless cycle.
My mother has become so fixated and attached to a certain outcome of this relationship, a certain image of the “family” that her heart desires, that she is incapable of letting go and allowing things to be what they are. In fact, this sentiment applies to both of you as well. Neither of you is willing to release and break the chains, falsely believing that this is all in the name of love. All for the sake of family. Instead, you all remain blinded from it all. For my mother especially, she has already convinced herself that it must turn out this way. Otherwise, there is nothing left for her to live for. As if her two living and breathing, daughters and husband are not enough for her.
Every conversation we have always becomes a “But how are they doing?” or a “When do you think they will marry?” or quite simply, “What have you been doing to make sure that they are okay?”
Hence, I beg of you, please, please, stop pretending as if things are fine. As if things are back to normal and nothing ever happened. Stop refusing to see the reality of what is right in front of the both of you.
It’s time. It’s time to let go and love each other from a distance. For ALL parties involved. No longer as partners, but as whatever else the universe has planned.
This truth takes away nothing from the value that your relationship holds. It does not steal any of its worth or validity. It also speaks nothing to who you each are, there is no “bad guy” at fault here. This truth simply means that the relationship has run its course, and as much love as there still is, sanity and stability are more important.
As I can only imagine you are both exhausted and frustrated, so am I. So am I. In order to stop the cycle, we first have to admit that there is a problem to be dealt with in the first place. That we are in fact, contributing to the toxicity of this relationship.
And as for you mom, this is my plea to you —
“I love you, I love you, I love you. But, if you require me to resume this role as holder of secrets any longer, you will lose me. You all will. Please understand, that this is in no way a threat, or manipulation on my part. It is simply me speaking my truth and finally having the courage to honor it. To lay it down vulnerably and fully, in the name of truth. As a means to restore our family, to return to how things should have been all along, to rewrite this story once and for all, allowing it to be exactly what it is.”
“It’s nice to see you again Jane. I hope that you enjoyed your Thanksgiving holiday. I wanted to start our session as we always do. And I know, you don’t particularly agree with the intention behind this activity, as your response is always to tell me that nothing has changed, but, I promise there is a purpose to my madness (there is a brief break in the conversation, as you and I both, catch ourselves chuckling from the word choice you have chosen).
So…,let’s start with you drawing a picture of your family. Anything and everything that comes to mind when you think of what family means to you.”
