What Kind of Witchery Is This?

I literally didn’t want anything this Christmas. I still have Google Music (under the family plan so everyone in the fam gets it as well as commercial-free YouTube) and I purchased ESPN/Sports package so I could watch my fall sports (which I canceled last week.) I’m drowning in stuff so I didn’t want anything. Besides, I have my obsessions that I indulged for many years and I’m now trying to use/purge. My wife and kids still have other ideas, and if nothing else, I have to chuckle at what they did get me.

“What kind of witchery is this?” was my response when I stumbled upon something on YouTube. I had to ask Tracy what it was. “That’s a Bath Bomb.” I had to watch it a couple of times just to understand what I was seeing. It seems most of the female gender knows more about it than I do practically, but I am interested in the chemical makeup, the feeling as it dissolves in one’s hand. Madsen gifted me a couple of those.

“Here Dad.” Was Bennet’s comment when he placed a heavy box on my lap. He just handed me a gift-wrapped case of Diet Dr. Pepper. “We know how important that is to you.” was Tracy’s remark when I unwrapped it.

“I hope you like them, Dad.” Ellie smiled. I had just unwrapped 4 LED bulbs. I’m honestly not sure where that obsession came from or if it even qualifies. I like going to the bulb section of Home Depot. I rarely buy anything though. I have a collection of bulbs, I must admit. I have a lot of 100W incandescents that I bought before you couldn’t buy them as the 100W fluorescents sucked at the time. The LEDs are much nicer so I miscalculated that need. (We only have one fixture that uses them, the garage.) I have a lot of other CFLs because I found some screaming deals on them and we were going through them pretty quickly. I still am not sure if they last longer than incandescents. Anyway, Ellie picked up on that and now I have 4 more LEDs.

Tracy gave me a board game that I’ve been looking at for many months, Tiny Epic Galaxies. They’ve come down in price too so it was a very good choice. And she also fed into my writing implement obsession buying me a box of Pilot pens. I loved that brand back in college. My favorite pencil is also a Pilot but I know they don’t have that particular kind any longer. Still, the old box of 12 that must have been moldering away on a shelf for the last 30 years or so is appreciated. (I carry 2 that I picked up in college in my backpack.)

Not a super haul, but at least I’m understood by my family. I guess that is more important than things anyway.

My Gift Anxiety

I have gift anxiety. It really didn’t come to the forefront until I started dating. The realization that I could never find a gift to represent my feelings, or the feeling of inadequacy because I wasn’t inventive enough to find the perfect gift is a special kind of hell. It wasn’t until after I married Tracy that it came to the forefront and there were lessons involved for both of us. I needed to be more verbal in my feelings of anxiety, to quash the fears that I had. Tracy was more than understanding. It wasn’t that I was trying to get out of a relationship requirement, but I have misread people in the past and I was just then becoming aware of how badly I had misread my own issues. I am a very emotional person, and a gift, a thing that I could hold in my hand, was never going to be enough.

I mentioned this to Tracy last night. Our daughter was out with friends and after many hours at the mall, just got around to asking her Mother, “Mom, what do you want for Christmas?” It is kind of frustrating to have a daughter that waits always for the last minute, but I’m not one to complain too much either. I waited until the last week myself.

After smiling and sighing in frustration, I told Tracy, “I want to tell you how much I appreciate you letting me know what you want. It does make it all so much easier.”

“Not a problem.” She replied, “You let me know all year long how much you love me. I don’t need something one time a year.”

I think that is what makes this time of year tolerable for me. Otherwise, if I thought my life was only appreciated because of my ability to find the perfect present, it would crush me. And yes, while it is an irrational fear, it has that significance for me. Instead, Tracy and I have learned to work around our anxieties. If she wants something, she gets it herself. I rarely complain. Well, almost rarely. I have other anxieties that I have to quash too. I get stuff too, but I also deny a lot of impulses of mine also. I can be selfish. And I have to realize that sometimes that’s allowed.

That isn’t to say that I don’t have my moments. Tracy did want me to mention about a waffle iron I once bought her for Christmas. I don’t like waffles but it was a big part of her growing up. She claims it was the most romantic thing I ever got her. I am not sure what to do with that information.  

I also found a few pieces of jewelry that she liked. It wasn’t diamonds or precious stones, but it did say that I paid attention to what she was into. I don’t know if they lasted all that long. Considering that we have the understanding that we can get what we want ourselves, it is usually the small things that are left over. I just wish that realization, that it doesn’t matter, could burrow through the anxiety I have that it is never enough.

My kids are better at it than I am too. At least, being adopted, they didn’t pick up that gene from me. While going through a store, Madsen looked down, picked up something and said, “Mom will like this.” I had to chuckle because yes, she would like it. I’m glad he was able to find a trinket like that and know that this would be enough to make his mother happy. (We are trying to make Christmas a much more quiet, subdued affair.) 

South Elgin Winter Wonderland Concert - Wind Ensemble

An American Fanfare - Rick Kerby

Let Freedom Sing (soloist David Larsen) - arr. John Moss

A Festival Prelude - Alfred Reed

Prelude, Sicilano and Rondo - Malcolm Arnold

Christmas Music for Winds - arr. John Cacavas

Sleigh Ride

Tapping the Can

I came across a YouTube video this morning that sparked a memory. It was an experiment to determine if tapping the top of a soda can reduce the bubbles and foam when you open a shaken can. It was something my girlfriend at BYU used to do and was something that I picked up later. Did I think it reduced bubbles? No, not really. It became more of an homage to a time in my life, as a lot of my quirks and obsessions started around the same time. In any case, it brought a particular incident to mind.

I’ve already written about my depression on my mission. I didn’t even know it was depression until about 7 years ago. In any case, my depression and desperation for acceptance led me to my being a first-class tool. It led to the person I trusted and cared for the most to tell me to never contact her again. I promised if only to myself, to respect that request. I can’t say I kept that promise, but at the time I did. This led to a self-loathing and realization that I had become someone I despised. After establishing that, I had to ditch the personality that I had fostered the past year and that the culture of the mission and the church, in general, had to get out of my sphere of personal influence, not easy to do on a mission. I purged. I mean, I decided to only focus on my upcoming return to school and rebuild my personality into something that I could be happy with. I never wanted to be such an ass ever again.

So where does that tapping of a can of soda come into this story? It will. Patience.

When you wipe out a lot of your own self and ignore aspects of what is going on around you, you have to fill it with something else. I had a companion that would listen to me. I don’t think he particularly liked me, but he at least would listen. I feel sorry for the guy now, as I was sad almost all the time. Even then, it was an emotion that I didn’t want to have. Anyway, I remember driving once with him and my arm was out the window playing with the airstream. He abruptly stopped the car, pointed at me and said forcefully, “Stop it! You’ve been copying all my mannerisms for the past couple of weeks and it is driving me crazy. You want to be you. You have no right to be me!” I remember being shocked, looking down at my hands with the realization that I was doing that. OK. So I was now aware that I had something else to watch for. I apologized. I pledged that I would do better. 

I’m not sure how much longer that companion was with me. I know he allowed me a wide berth as I tried to find out who I should be again. I know the self-imposed isolation that a mission puts on missionaries was driving me crazy. I was an introvert, true, but I couldn’t deal with such isolation and I did the first thing that got me a reputation to being a rebel; I subscribed to a newspaper. I only kept it a few months, but it did remind me of something about myself. When I was in Boston, I would listen to NPR occasionally, just because I needed a connection to the world. In New York, I joined a scientific book club because I needed intellectual stimulation. In CT, there was a large group of nannies that worked there and it did me so much good to talk to people, girls even, my age. By the time I left to go back to school, I had re-organized myself so I could be normal again, a person that I wanted to be. I was still weird  (and Tracy can verify), but at least I overcame the worst time in my life.

And I decided to tap the top of my soda cans as a reminder that I can choose to be who I want to be, down to the mannerisms I carry with me, even if I borrowed them.

Note: I want to state that I don't post these for anything other than my own cathartic processes. I have not talked about this most of my life and I want to be a fairly open person. I don't do this to embarrass anyone or for any other reason other than to give some things words. What I wanted to share with this post was my interaction with my companion, and how my actions at the time upset him, and what I took away from it.

The bad part of being the most influential time of your life doesn't necessarily mean it was pleasurable. It goes against the accepted narrative. It isn't something that you might choose for yourself.