The Holiday Self-Esteem Punch In The Gut

While talking about what my friends were doing for the holidays one friend lamented the trip to visit her perennially over-bearing mother.  My friend, who I shall not name here in fear that her mother might one day discover this blog, has a mother infamous for saying exactly the worst thing at the worst time.  The good news is that her siblings, husband and children all know it and gather like a fortress to protect each other from the certain barbs her mother will throw at them.

Case in point is that my friend wanted to lose a couple of pounds, but her astute and supportive husband told her, “Don’t bother until after you have visited your Mother because your self esteem doesn’t need take that beating.”  The role of whipping post is well known to my friend and she graciously takes it from her clueless mother.

What is it about getting together with family at the holidays that makes us fall into the roles we play in our families as children?  Is there some big script that is already written that says if you are the youngest you will forever be the baby and therefore will never know as much as your older sibling just because they entered the world a few years before you?

Being older does not mean you are smarter, more worldly, better traveled or always right except if you are nine and your sister is five.  But somehow at fifty-nine and fifty-five you assume the same posture.

One unproductive way to deal with the inevitable family drama is to eat.  I think that is why so many people bake such ridiculous amounts of Christmas cookies and candy, just so they have some self-esteem healing sugar to buoy them up.   But we all know that the sugar high you get from biting the heads off the gingerbread men is short lived and is just going to pile the bad feelings on to the already bruised egos from the snide comments that a family member made about your child.

So this Christmas step away from the desserts.  Chocolate is the not answer.  Probably punching your Aunt Ruth when she says, “Aren’t you a little old for that skirt?” would go a whole lot farther to restoring your equilibrium, but please don’t.  So don’t eat or hit something, but instead run outside and scream your head off, then pick up the phone and call a friend and complain about your relatives.  I am sure they have something to complain about too.

All this being said, I am looking forward to seeing my family.  I have no complaints today, and I don’t have an Aunt Ruth.