I chose to brave New Year’s alone this year. The timing of my sedatives worked out where the option of taking one was available, but I eventually decided against it. Isolation was something I needed to face head-on, when everyone else was celebrating with friends and loved ones. If I could make it through (relatively) sober, I could survive the greatest fear I’ve had since I was a child: abandonment.
At the casual boxing day gathering I had the pleasure of meeting Alfie, Cristina’s dapper rescue mutt who deals with the same social anxiety issues as I do. Maybe that’s why we got along so well.
Probably also the fact that we were both dosed up.
It didn’t end up being anything spectacular. Just a night with a generous three hour window to catch up on Nolan’s latest work1 and some extra time to finish a campaign in Halo’s Master Chief Collection2.
Normalcy ended up being a gift I didn’t realize I needed. The approach of each holiday season has been a looming spectre ever since I cut the power cord off a standing Ikea lamp and made a noose to hang myself from the banister 10-ish years ago3, and the anniversary effect still hits me hard.
Being alone was a way to prove to myself that I’m not so helpless now, that I don’t have to be trapped in a past that still haunts me. I’ve come a long way since that fateful morning, when I was interrupted by two cops who wouldn’t leave unless I agreed to let them drive me to the hospital. Developing a wider emotional vocabulary, nurturing healthy relationships instead of toxic ones, working with a therapist every month, and consistently stepping out of my comfort zone so I can learn and grow are all things that have given me better tools and resources to survive.
A new set of matching pajamas for the whole family each year is the kind of tradition I’ll never get to have for myself, a fact that was much more painful for me to accept before I started looking for fulfillment in ways that don’t depend on others. Instead of feeling a tinge of sadness, I can now enjoy and appreciate experiences like this.
Spending Christmas with Aaron and his family this year certainly stayed any feelings of loneliness.
When I told him how scared I was of being isolated over the holidays, he insisted I stay with them or risk disappointing the kids. It was a touching threat, as well as a sign of how protective Aaron is of the people he cares about (and something I wouldn’t have noticed until Heather pointed out).
A few years ago, I might have believed it was a gesture out of charity or pity. Now I’m confident enough in my self-worth to know the invitation was extended because he genuinely enjoys my company and believes I’m a positive influence on his children (who have referred to me as “Uncle Jeff” ever since they could talk).
I collect my birthday and Christmas cards, one of the few tangible things I receive from the dwindling family I have left, and probably a sign that there are lingering insecurities. Hand-drawn ones like these are particularly special; I feel seen when someone appreciates the meals I make them or my gaming abilities or simply myself as a person.
To be loved by children and animals — beings who are too innocent to have ulterior motives for expressing such feelings — is something I’ve come to cherish a great deal after a lifetime of emotional manipulation.
Being around four kids and five adults left me so wired that I had to leave a night earlier than planned so as to avoid burning myself out, even if years of unbearable loneliness meant I desperately wanted to stay. It was comforting enough to see me through one of the most difficult nights I’ve annually come to dread.
When I thanked him afterwards, he told me it would mean a great deal to everyone if I joined them each year, but no pressure. Having a place to go, but more importantly, knowing it’s because my presence would be valued instead of an obligation due to relation, has given me a feeling of acceptance and belonging I thought would be forever beyond my reach, and a sense of hope I believed was eternally lost.
- Oppenheimer was the first of his films that wasn’t my thing, but as with Scorsese, Malick, Anderson, Tarantino, and Villeneuve’s oeuvres, I’ll always be paying attention.
- I’ve never owned a Microsoft console, so while some mechanics and level designs are extremely dated, I’m still enjoying my delve into the history of such a huge cultural phenomenon as the Halo series.
- Dates and memories tend to be very hazy around that time, especially when I try not to think about it too much.
© Jeff @ equivocality, 2024. | No comments
Post tags: Aaron, confidence, dogs, family, hope, insecurity, loneliness, realization, self-evaluation, suicide | Categories: Daily Life, Photos
