18 - Rewiring my brain
I remember taking Typing in high school.
asdf asdf asdf asdf asdf
jkl; jkl; jkl; jkl;
asdfjkl; asdfjkl; asdfjkl;
Trying to teach my fingers where each letter and number and punctuation was located on the keyboard. It was hard going, but I eventually became adequate at typing. Without consciously thinking about what I was doing, my fingers would go to the correct letter and make words, sentences, paragraphs, and whole papers.
As I got older, it proved to be a valuable skill. I type a lot, and the fact that I can do it quickly is very helpful. I amaze my kids with the fact that my fingers fly over the keys, even though I’m not looking. Hey, whatever I can do to be cool, right?
The reason I can do this is because I have typed a lot. I don’t tell my fingers what to do, they just go where they are supposed to go. I don’t have to think about it. I just type. Muscle memory.
When my children were born, I wanted to create a magic and excitement surrounding Christmas. I was hell-bent on making it perfect. But for some reason, I was always down. There was a darkness that would settle over me from Thanksgiving to Christmas. I wanted it to go away, but it was a constant battle to overcome.
When I was young, Christmas wasn’t the outstanding time of year that is portrayed in books or movies. I wanted it to be. I wanted to hold on to the magic, but it was like trying to catch a breeze. It wasn’t possible. The Christmas season was filled with tension and anger and fighting. There was always a blow up. I knew it was coming, I just didn’t know when.
That’s why I struggled as an adult with the holiday. The songs that I loved actually brought back bad memories instead of joy. The beautiful tree lights reminded me of sadness instead of excitement.
In one of my first posts (3 - Life Doesn’t Stop), I mentioned a new tradition that I had started. I breezed over the fact that it was born from a panic that the current Christmas I was experiencing may be my last Christmas with my family.
I really should live each day as if it were my last. I should impart wisdom to my children now, not when they are older. I should do the nice thing for my neighbor now, not later. I should be kind to everyone I meet: other shoppers, the guy at Target who checks me out, the lady who fills my prescription at Walgreens, the person in the car next to me who wants to get over. I should put it all on the table, and hold nothing back.
But life happens, and I forget.
Or, it’s hard, and I decide to do it tomorrow.
I always think there is plenty of time. But actually, each second that passes is a second I will not get back. Whether I like it or not, time is marching forward. Despite the fact that I try to stop it, or slow it down (just a little bit!), it just keeps going. And going. And going.
As Anna Nalick said in her song, “Breathe (2am)”
“Cause you can’t jump the track, we’re like cars on a cable
And life’s like an hourglass glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button now
So cradle your head in your hands and breathe, just breathe…”
Shit! That’s so depressing!
That’s why when something happens that pulls me out of my “sleepwalking through life,” I try to recognize it as a gift. Thank you for waking me up!!! But honestly, I like it better when a song does that. Not so much when I’m told I probably have a tumor.
I don’t want to go into a ton of detail because what instigated the change in me is not necessarily important. What IS important is that I thought I was going to die. And I thought this very well could be the last Christmas with my husband and children. So I dug deep and tried to make it the most spectacular, memorable occasion possible.
Honestly, my kids knew something was wrong. They didn’t know exactly what it was, but they saw sadness and panic. Still, we managed to make it one of the best, most memorable Christmases we had ever had.
Instead of putting names on the gifts, I put numbers. So when everyone woke up and tried to put the presents in piles (as we had done in previous years), they couldn’t.
Then I gave each person his or her own BINGO card filled with numbers. There were numbers that would actually be a present for them, and extra numbers that would not be called.
I pulled out our BINGO game that contained only numbers of gifts (I removed balls with numbers that did not correspond to a gift). I would spin the cage and call out a number. If they had it, they would mark it on their card. Then, they had to get up and dig through ALL of the presents to find the one with their number. Once found, they would open it while everyone watched.
Then, we would do it all again.
Whoever gets BINGO (5 in a row), gets a small prize like a bag of candy. My kids are competitive, but it’s more about winning and less about the prize. There is so much laughing throughout the morning! (Click here to see how to play the BINGO game)
A year or so before this, I had started another tradition as well. I added it to BINGO. (Click here to read about that) Instead of wrapping their “big” gift, and putting it under the tree, I hid them all (wrapped) somewhere in the house. One of their BINGO gifts became a scavenger hunt clue that all four kids had to work together to solve, in order to find their final gifts.
I also started buying “family” gifts. Things that would benefit all of us, like board games or tickets to a movie or museum. I wrap those as well and we play the left right game (just google “left right game” and a bunch of free options will pop up) to see who gets to unwrap it.
We don’t have a ton of presents (each person gets 5, B-I-N-G-O), it just takes time. We also take a break to eat a special breakfast. And, depending on how hard the scavenger hunt is, that can take a while.
Believe it or not, it takes us at least six hours to get through everything. It’s the most bang for your Christmas buck!
I ended up being ok. But the wake-up call rewired my brain to associate happiness and warmth and love with the holiday. A new tradition was born, one that my kids (who are no longer little) look forward to every year.
The point is, life is short. Don’t wait to make time with your family more special. Don’t wait to enjoy every moment. As soon as you blink, it’s gone.