When I wake up in the morning there is a period of time when I'm in despair. This is just the way it is. Doesn't matter how beautiful the day, how sweet the life, my brain will be telling me that I'm a worthless, talentless being who has no business taking up space on the planet.
This is not a good thing and is best suffered in solitude. My husband knows by now to leave me alone until my brain does its daily adjustment and I come out of the deep well of sadness and self-loathing that I'm inevitably in upon awakening.
Bad chemicals. That's what I blame. Purely and simply, just bad chemicals and since I know what's going on, I can almost ignore the bad thoughts, although I do check my forehead in the mirror as I wash my face to made sure there's not a big, bright L engraved on it, because I certainly feel as if one had been placed there in my sleep.
I wonder how many other people go through this every day.
Right now quite a few of the bad thoughts and self-loathing have to do with Christmas. As in, I haven't even really started getting ready. My sweet yoga teacher is giving us weekly tips on how to de-stress during this holiday season when we're so busy and doing so much for others. Since I've not yet become busy and am certainly not doing anything for others, I feel incredibly guilty as we breathe and stretch and clear our minds. Of course, the day I can entirely clear my mind of guilt is the day Satan and Hitler are pelting each other with snowballs, but that's another story.
Anyway, I was thinking it would be a nice thing, a positive and possibly therapeutic thing for me if folks who stop by here would leave a little comment about the best Christmas present they ever got.
(Okay. I am totally stealing all the ideas but it's my blog and my idea and I do really want to know.)
I'll start off.
The best Christmas present I ever received was a used typewriter. I suppose this was back in the early sixties and the typewriter was one of those big, black heavy things that could crush a dwarf. I think it was an Underwood and my mother, who gave me this typewriter, had paid to have the machine (and it was most definitely a machine) refurbished and cleaned and it had one of those snazzy two-color tapes in it so that I could type in either red or black, which was pretty high-tech for those days. She also bought me a typing manual and I spent every spare moment I had for the next few months teaching myself to type with it.
fffffff, I would type.
Then hhhhhhh. My little fingers could barely depress those charm-like keys but I was diligent and did each lesson in its turn and you know what? I did eventually learn to type although I'm still a little shaky with the numbers. I guess I got burnt out by the time I reached that part of the book.
I don't know why my mother got me a typewriter and I don't know why I was so enchanted with it, but she did and I was and that was the beginning of something I'm still not over. These days I love my MacBook with all my heart. Maybe even as much as I loved that big, oily, iron writing machine, but the surprise of getting that typewriter was something I'll never forget. It was as if some magical force had urged my mother into buying me something I didn't know I wanted with all my heart.
Now. What's your story?
Give it to me, come on, I want it. I need it. This could be the very thing that brings a bit of Christmas cheer to this grinchy green old heart of mine.
I'm begging you. Tell me what made you happy. And when I wake up in the mornings, I'll think about those things instead of checking my forehead for the Loser Brand and we'll all be better off.
One note- if your story sounds something like But the best Christmas present I ever got was the feeling I had after we gave all our money and food to the homeless man who lived under the bridge, it's not going to make me feel any better.
But if that's your story, tell it if you must.
Thanks! And oh yeah, Merry....
You know.
I don't have despair in the early morning hours, but I have had melancholy in the late afternoon hours. Time passes, days run into weeks and what have I really done with myself..
ReplyDeleteBut my best Christmas present that I can think of getting was the dollhouse that my dad built me way long ago. Juancho got a castle and they were both unwrapped and lit by the Christmas tree lights glowing in the early morning. I felt very special and loved.
Come to think of it, just digging into my Christmas stocking with the little mouse on its toe, made me feel special and loved. Handmade gifts are the most special of all.
Yes, I too have experienced the sun-is-going down melancholy. I suspect many do, which is why the happy hour was invented.
ReplyDeleteNow! To your story! Yes! Thank-you so much, sister of Juancho! This is what I'm asking for. The homemade doll house. Oh, that makes me happy to think about. Did it have furniture and little people dolls? Did it have carpets and tiny knives and forks? Did you spend many happy hours playing with it?
And the castle- did it have a drawbridge?
You have reminded me that of all the gifts I've given, the ones I made meant the very most to me and of course, the ones I've gotten that were handmade, too.
I better get busy with the old glue gun, huh?
Thank you, Lillyllama.
A magic kit, the year I could read the instructions myself. A clip on tie, because all doctors wear ties. Plastic swords of all shapes and sizes.
ReplyDeleteAnd hey, at least we're not facing Christmas with the Marches.
`Merry Christmas, little daughters! I'm glad you began at once, and hope you will keep on. But I want to say one word before we sit down. Not far away from here lies a poor woman with a little new-born baby. Six children are huddled into one bed to keep from freezing, for they have no fire. There is nothing to eat over there; and the oldest boy came to tell me they were suffering hunger and cold. My girls, will you give them your breakfast as a Christmas present?'
They were all unusually hungry, having waited nearly an hour, and for a minute no one spoke; only a minute, for Jo exclaimed impetuously:
`I'm so glad you came before we began!'
`May I go and help carry the things to the poor little children?' said Beth, eagerly.
`I shall take the cream and the muffins,' added Amy, heroically, giving up the articles she most liked.
Meg was already covering the buckwheats, and piling the bread into one big plate.
(Those wacky Marches!)
Yeah, and we all know how THAT little mission eventually ended- Beth DIES!
ReplyDeleteAnd besides, they all got spankin' new copies of Pilgrim's Progress, remember? I love those Marches.
I remember that magic kit. It was your impetus to learn to read. So what were you? Four? I think so.
And Aunt Lynn gave you the tie. Wasn't it orange? Polyester, I'm sure.
Thank you for reminding me. I love you.
It was red, as I recall. I sort of wish I still had it. I bet I could get Billy to wear it to the bar.
ReplyDeleteWhat was the year of my Great Recital? (ha!)
Great recital? Why is this not ringing a bell? What recital?
ReplyDeleteYeah, what happened to that tie? What happened to my typewriter? Do you suppose when we get to heaven that all our favorite lost things will be waiting for us? That's a nice thought.
Although so is the idea of fairies.
That time I rattled off all of Twas the Night Before Christmas, thereby setting my "potential" bar higher than I should have.
ReplyDeleteI hope my favorite boots are waiting for me. I still miss those things.
Oh. THAT recital. Yes, I remember it well. We were living on Randolph, so you were probably five, at least.
ReplyDeleteThere were adults there who witnessed that recitation with their mouths open in wonder. I was one of them.
I'm still proud of you for that! Could you still do it?
Probably, though I think I usually get bogged down in the description right after Santa comes down the chimney.
ReplyDeleteI can also recite the Jabberwocky still, I think, but that's not as appropriate to the holiday.
Well, maybe not most people's holiday....
ReplyDeleteThe castle was awesome, but the parachute pants were pretty special too.
ReplyDeleteThis is a comment for the post before this one (I don't know if you check comments from prior posts) - here's a quote from playwright Eve Ensler, who was 51 at the time I cut it out of my dam AARP magazine and hung it up on my bulletin board: "I really like who I am. And I really like aging...If it didn't lead to death it would be perfect."
ReplyDeletei think the best xmas present i ever got, or at least can remember right now, was the michael jackson glove. i used to pretend i was different superstars but the only thing that made me into them was a single item of clothing. like the fake fur lined boots that could turn me into either tina turner or cyndi lauper, depending on the day. that's how the glove was, only it was a part of the actual star's own outfit. and it was silver and came with all of these tiny sequins. only problem was that the sequins were not attached. so oh yeah, it also came with a tiny tube of glue. my sweet uncle sat there for most of xmas day, gluing tiny sequins on a glove way too big for my 7 or 8 year old hand. all so i could be mj.
ReplyDeleteand downtown guy, i would totally wear your clip on tie to the bar. i've got close to 10 at my house right now, clipped to the regular tie hanger, right next to all the regular ties.
unca b
Wait-I'm not getting my e-mail notification of comments. I had no idea people had been leaving me these lovely stories.
ReplyDeleteJuancho- PARACHUTE PANTS??? Do you still have them? That would be so awesome.
My Other Blog- that's a great quote. I like it a lot. More than I like actual aging, in fact.
Unca B- I love that story. Sweetness and a good sense of style run in your family. Pictures? I would pay good money to see you doin' the Moonwalk wearing that glove.
my most favorite Christmas present was a Flipper stuffed animal, with the squeky thing in the nose. To this day, it means Christmas to me, and is like a movie in my head anytime I think about anything Christmas.
ReplyDeleteWe lived on the last street of the "good neighborhood" and my folks were part of the in crowd, but we did not have much in the way of money. Mother made almost all of hers and my clothes, and of course out of the same material. There were 4 kids and she was very resourceful so that we never realized how little we really had. We had wonderful Christmases! On Christmas eve we would go to the pagent at the Methodist Church where the kids dressed up as angels, wiseman or shepherds and then were stuffed with homemade cookies and hot chocolate and Santa gave us all a present in the rec hall. Then my parents and brothers and I would load up in the station wagon and drive around the little park across the river in Bradenton to see the lights on the podacarpus trees. After oohing and aahing we would come home and put on our pjs. Mother would read us the Christmas story out of this big book of Bible stories while we all sat on the couch together, and then we would leave out carrots for the rheindeer and milk/cookies for Santa, hang up our stockings and then go to bed. However, before any of this little tradition occurred, I would have already found my presents, opened them and played with them. Being careful to wrap them back up, and place them exactly as I had found them. I was amazed years later to find out that my parents didn't know about that. I thought all parents figured those things out. Anyway, we always received something special, but not costly. We were not by any means deprived, but life was very frugal. So the year that I found the flipper stuffed toy, I was amazed. Mother and I had looked at it in the Sears catalog and we both longed for it. But I never asked, because I could tell that we could not afford it, and that obviously my mother wanted to give it to me more then I even wanted it. So each evening leading up to Christmas (even long after the presents had been bought)Mother and I would look in the wish book and "play" with the presents that we could not afford. So when I found the stuffed animal I was so shocked, I just wrapped it back up and put it where it was hidden. The night after I had found it, we played the same game, and Mother had no twinkle of a special secret in her eyes, but she did seem to pass over the animal quicker then normal, but there was something strange about her look. Of course I could not say antyhing, because I couldn't admit I knew. A few weeks went by, and then I saw it, that look in my Mother's eye, like she had the best secret in the world. I knew that look, but I was like 8, so didn't understand what was happening. Christmas morning, my dad would hook up his 8mm camera, the ones with the nuclear bright lights blinding us, and in our pjs the 4 of us kids would pour out of our bedrooms, down the hall and open our stockings. My dad would always tell us the story about the tangerine in our stocking, about that being the most special present to him because in Indiana, tangerines were very rare when he was a kid, but his parents always made sure that he had one in his stocking. Then after eating our chocolate santas, we would get in line while dad prepared to burn our retinas again as we ran into the living room to see what santa had left us (always the best present unwrapped was from santa, and the rest of the presents would be wrapped and from our parents, siblings and relatives). Flipper, which I knew was my biggest present wasn't there. I also did not see the box that it had come in. Of course my 8 year old mind figured I was busted and that they had taken the present back, or worse. So I tried to act excited and opened the presents there. My brothers had all gotten that special present they had asked Santa for, but I was afraid to say anything. Then while my brothers were hypnotized by their presents, my parents called me over. They didn't look mad, I certainly knew that look more then my brothers did. In fact they kept looking back and forth at each other and smiling. They looked happier then I had ever seen them. They explained that they had ordered my pesent from Sears, I don't remember what it was now, but that it had not come in. They were so sorry, but something special had happened and they hoped I would be just as happy with what they had recieved. It appears that Sears had sent the wrong thing. My mother had writtened Sears a letter and explained the problem, but Sears had written back and explained, that since what my Mother had recieved was worth more then what she had ordered and it was Sear's fault, Mother was welcome to return the incorrect item and they would try to get the correct item to Mother and Dad, but that time was short (this is early 1960s) and they could not guranatee that the item would be delivered before Christmas. My mother had written Sears back, and said that they would be happy to keep the item they had recieved. So it was a real Christmas miracle. The present my Mother had longed to give her only daughter (who watched every flipper show on TV, and had been picked to ride in the boat the dolphin pulled around the pool at some water thing, and read everything there was about dolphins)was there in her hands. And at a price almost half of what she had sent to Sears. And they told her that she could keep it. From behind my Dad's chair they pulled out the box and laid it between them. My parents held hands and told me to open it up. They looked so beautiful and happy. Of course I didn't know most of this, all I knew was that a miracle had happened, and my parents were giving me the best present I had ever had. But was I remember the most was how happy my parents were. In their eyes, they had been the ones who had been given the best present. I remember hugging them and kissing their cheeks and telling them how much I loved my present. But what I loved was how much love I saw in their eyes.
I would love to tell you, that moment changed my evil ways, but alas it did not. I was changed by how much love parents could have for their children, but I continued until I left home for college secreting out my presents, opening them, sometimes playing with them, later, just enjoying the espinoage of the hunt. When my Mother and I talked about that Christmas 25+ years later, she looked as happy as that day when she realized that even at that age, I had understood the giving more then the present. Fortunatley we both laughed about my present high jinks, and she swore that she and dad never knew. Go figure
Hmmm.... the 2 things I can think of right now both have to do with cats (since that's on my mind!!): when I was 5 my mom gave me a cat that I had until she died 17 years later. Katie was part wild cat and a fiesty thing - dogs were scared of her! The other cool thing is a blanket my grandma (who I call g-ma) made for me. I lived with her for a few years after college and we are very close. The blanket is so nice and soft - I take it everywhere. And right now it is being used as my new kitty, Lilly's bed (:
ReplyDeleteohmigosh - i just read about the Michael Jackson glove and got a good laugh - LOVE it!! Me and my brother used to pretend we were Michael Jackson and would try to do his dances and do a little turn and grab our crotches and shout at the end - like he did - haha - crazy guy - he is talented...
ReplyDeleteOh, Leenie- what a beautiful story. I just loved reading it. It was like a movie. Do you still have your Flipper?
ReplyDeleteYour parents really loved you so much. I know that your daddy still does and wherever it is that your mama is (and it's somewhere near the light), she does too.
CME- I know your Lily kitty will sleep so sweetly on that blanket. I made my kids blankets, too, with their names on them and if I can get my ass in gear, I'm making my niece and nephew blankets for this Christmas. And I wish I could have seen you and your brother dancing like Michael Jackson.
This has been the most fun blog of all.
Thank you all so much for leaving your stories.
I'm really trying to think of one... some story, some where, of a great present, of a really really happy Christmas.... huh.... gotta be one.... only thing coming to mind is this awesome race car set my parents gave me. they had it all set up downstairs with a long streamer leading the way, and some kind of note from Santa (although I had already learned of the horrible farce, I didn't let on). The race set was great! with it's own table! My dad and I would play with it for hours, faster, faster, faster till the cars would fly off the track, zing across the room! yeah that was a good year.
ReplyDeleteIt's all about the presentation I think. And laughter :)
Presentation and laughter- yeah, you may be on to something here.
ReplyDeleteDo you still like race cars, Ms. A?