Breathing Space & More...

Today I sat down with the intention of writing about my DIY holidays.  How this time of year my creative juices are flowing and I immerse myself in crafting handmade gifts, goodies, and arrangements.  As I started to write I thought I would feel some pride.  I am in the middle of teaching myself some new things, and making time to sit and create instead of shop, bake, or bustle around, seems like progress in the goal of leading a simpler life, right? But... then I took a deeper look. Underneath this creativity is pressure.  A pressure to produce.  My own pressure to produce. When I took a step back and looked at myself and how December goes for me, I realized that I always find myself in a creativity frenzy.  I begin shopping & making lists and then ideas start to percolate.  I think about what I could make instead of buy.  I decide to whip up a little something extra so that the gift is more heartfelt than a gift off of the shelf. As I tried to type, I felt a little sad.  

This time of year, I always find myself struggling to keep the holiday spirit as I contemplate my lists of things to do in order to get to every event on our calendar with all of the required food, gifts, smiles, and energy.  It is the same every year.  Every year I say to myself, "how could I do this differently next year?" and every year I find myself in the same place.  The holiday bustle is starting earlier and earlier and it seems like that only creates more pressure for performance. In my house I am the bah, humbug of the family.  I am not ready or willing to start thinking Christmas until Thanksgiving is on the books.  I usually don't listen to Christmas music until that day, and I don't get the tree or the house decorated until after that day.  I'm the scrooge who lives with a husband and kids that would (and do) listen to Christmas music year-round!  I feel guilty for being this way, but I also try to honor each day, and I guess for me that means l

I have been pondering how hard it has been to accept that I am anyone unique.  For some reason I forget, very easily, that we all experience life in so many different ways.  Maybe it makes life easier and takes some weight off of my shoulders if I tell myself that everyone has the same abilities and that anyone is capable of doing whatever it is I am thinking of attempting. I have probably been scared that when I accept and believe in my own uniqueness, then I will have to make sure I put  something special out into the world.  To embrace that would mean pulling back the security blanket that covers me with the words "just fit in" and that's NOT easy.  It has created predictability and keeps me from feeling exposed.  It offers the illusion that I am safe and comfortable. But, really what has happened is a lot of tiptoeing about; gauging how much to give or reveal, deciding how to share and contribute, questioning how things would be received before speaking or doing.