Thanksgiving? It was Mixed.

So how was my Thanksgiving, you ask.

It was really nice. The family was here. We reminisced about the past and tried to predict the future. The turkey was moist. I tried a new stuffing recipe that was a wild mix of ingredients, but it worked. Peace and harmony reigned.

That's not a lie, but it's not the whole truth either.

I don't know about your family, but mine is no Norman Rockwell painting. We are a bunch of strong willed, and sometimes confused individuals, whose views about the present and recollections about the past don't always jibe. I'd be inclined to keep that family business to myself, but I know that my experience is not that different from yours. Families that epitomize the Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving are either extremely rare and fortunate, or they are just a figment of our collective imagination. I'm inclined to believe the latter.

For most of us, the good parts of Thanksgiving were mixed with some degree suffering. I have friends who were sad and bewildered to be out of their usual element this Thanksgiving. Others were furious to be stuck in the same lousy rut as always. I heard many stories of loneliness from clients separated by miles, death, or conflict from the ones they love. Some had no one to share the holiday. Many wished there were no holiday at all.

I believe we create much of our own Thanksgiving disappointment through unrealistic expectations. We expect the day to be special, our family to be better than it is, and all our feelings to be positive. We forget that life is an ambiguous and complex mix.

Just as we create our own disappointment, we can create our own joy. Let's consider changing our thinking to reflect reality:

• Our families aren't perfect. Neither are we.
  
• We can't have perfect love in our hearts. It's imperfect at best.
  
• Even the best relationships have ambivalent feelings within them.
  
• The people we love don't live forever, but can live in our hearts.
  
• Children grow up and move away. That's what we raised them to do.
  

So, how was my Thanksgiving? Mixed. As mixed as my stuffing recipe. Yours?

copyright 2007 starfishdoc

Really Big Birthdays

I just had one of those Really Big Birthdays. You know, the kind that ends in a Zero. (Sorry, you'll have to do the math.)

I kept it pretty much a secret, because as an introvert, the last thing I wanted was a party. And a surprise party would be the worst.

No, what I wanted was a quiet time doing my favorite things with close friends. And I got what I asked for.

My two best friends drove five hours to spend the weekend with us. We spent most of our time settin' on the front porch solving the world's problems as well as our own. One of the things that makes us best friends is we don't mind listening to stories over again that we've told each other before. (Is that helping you with the math?)

We also had a wonderful dinner at a local bistro where we know the owners by name and they treat us like family. We toasted the occasion many, many times!

And the weekend was not without its excitement. After dinner we had to do catch and release on a bat that was performing acrobatics in our living room.

So what's this post really about? Two things. Really Big Birthdays and Introversion. And how the two go together.

When I was about eight months pregnant with my second child, I told my family that I absolutely did not want a baby shower. Despite their attempts to heed my request, one friend insisted. Worst of all, it was a surprise shower.

Introverts hate surprises. Introverts hate being in the limelight. I mean, really hate it, as in rather spend the day cleaning toilets.

Imagine my misery walking into a room full of people shouting "surprise!" and focusing all their attention on me! And I was in fact not surprised.

That's another thing about introverts. We are keen observers who rarely miss the subtle cues around us, such as someone talking a little too softly on the phone. So, I was not only miserable about going to the party, but now I felt the obligation to act surprised so my friend wouldn't be disappointed.

So, thanks to those who honored my desire for a quiet birthday, especially those who wanted to throw me a party but knew better. What finer gift than to be accepted and understood? What could feel more like love?

Moral of the story: if you want to help someone celebrate a special occasion, stop and walk around in their loafers. Especially if they are introverts. Help them celebrate in the way they would most desire it, not the way you think it should be done. They'll really be grateful.

Copyright 2007 starfishdoc