I have the post holiday blues. I had so much fun decorating cookies and skiing with Santa that the return to work this Monday was a bit of a let down even if I do adore my job. I also had mouth surgery and I find the hole in my mouth leaves a deeper hollow space. So I clean and sort to find my way back to normal, finding the holy in everyday things.
God is in the roses, and the thorns… This lyric by Rosanne Cash epitomizes my belief that God is everywhere; even, and especially for me in the New Year, in the details of cleaning out.
Cleaning out my purse is a small enough task that I can tackle it and feel instantly accomplished. I riffle through receipts to find the instructions for my mouth surgery before I go. I toss out a few gum wrappers. I refill hand sanitizer and switch out an empty chapstick. I finally decide the plethora of punch cards I’ve been carrying to save money are costing me my sanity. I keep the 3 I use regularly and dump the rest.
Cleaning the fridge puts me back together. I start on the top shelf, wiping my way down as I go. Tossing out spoiled fruit and leftovers allows my brain to let go of the cranberries and popcorn that didn’t get strung. We managed to have a fabulous Christmas even if we skipped over that tradition. I let go of another layer of what makes a good mother.
As I walked my son to the bus yesterday morning and discovered the tear falling down my cheek I asked myself why the post-holiday-blues gets me. I had a truly lovely Christmas, perhaps my best ever. Yet there are still invisible expectations that tug at me. Did my children feel equally loved? Did my dad enjoy our visit?
In short I worry.
My cure for worry aside from reminding myself that I am in someone else’s business instead of my own is to scrub something dirty. Worry can’t see results and it wants to. Scrubbing away dirt fixes that.
My shower has long been neglected. It was the perfect cure for my holiday blues. Can you spy that mold? I went at it with a vengeance. I attacked it to scrub away all the expectations in my children’s lives I can’t see. I washed away everything my father wants of me that I don’t have to offer.
The oral surgeon harvested a glob of tissue from my palate and sewed it onto my lower gums because I am receding. My mouth echoes my mood now and I feel hollow everywhere. After some rest my daughter and I made a blanket for her dorm room.
The texture of soft fleece rhythmically cut in 1 inch strips orders my mind and fills in the gaps. I cut, she ties and we become a team in our endeavor. Fat daises fill my mind and I imagine them filling her dorm room. The hollow feeling I had in September when she was lonely and far away is replaced by the friends she tells me about and the warmth we are making together.
My tears dry. I am left with simple, happy holiday memories along with a few cleaner spaces, a mended mouth and a blanket to connect me to my kid who lives away.
How do you transition between holiday time and regular-work-a-day life? What altared spaces do you use to fill in the hallow spaces left by the excited expectations of holidays? How long does it take for mold to grow in your shower?
You might also enjoy this Rosanne Cash interview with one of my favorites: Krista Tippett. They talk about how Ms. Cash found God in music and art … and realized God might be everywhere.
{ 13 comments… read them below or add one }
It’s funny, but I typically have the pre-Christmas blues… worried that the people I love will be disappointed in their gifts or that I didn’t send out cards or do all the traditions that I wanted to do. But somehow Christmas always seems to work it’s magic and I recognize how blessed I am and that love is not measured by cards or gifts or decorations or cookies.
The week between Christmas and New Years is almost always free of work, when I relax and just enjoy all that’s around me without guilt of what I “should” be doing and often that’s when I have fun with all those traditions that I wasn’t able to get to before Christmas.
And then when work begins again after New Years, I’m full of resolve to stay positive, be productive, and live life fully. It’s almost always a time when I feel excited about beginning some new goal.
But… as we get a little farther into the year — maybe mid-January? — I tend to fall into those winter doldrums. That’s when I really need to remember to look for my altared spaces! I will look forward to keeping up with your blog which in itself, is an altared space!
You have so many exciting things awaiting you this year, Yvette. I can’t imagine a winter cold enough to chill your fire!
I am usually a bit let down after Christmas. This year we made a big deal of taking the decorations down together and packing them away…it was actually as enjoyable as putting them up. I think it was the togetherness that made the difference.
Togetherness. Key. I’m taking this cue from you and doing the same thing at my house.
I love this: your honesty here and your reflections on stripping away the dirt all the while stripping away other people’s expectations of what you should do and who you should be.
I hope you enjoy this time with your daughter, warm in the fleece of her love (as I’m sure she is in yours). And I hope your mouth feels better – yikes.
Thanks for appreciating the honesty. Putting up a photo of my shower mold was…a stretch. But I do feel the load lighten when I am authentic. Obviously I’m much better at making things than cleaning.
Wonderful post, even if the fruit drawer in your fridge is looking a bit like “Sleeping with the Enemy.”
I feel the same way about organizing. It’s very therapeutic and because it’s a mindless task, it rests my weary mind.
Thank you, Margaret, for noticing the ultimate neurotic perfection of lined up fruit! On balance with the mold in my shower I’d say I order things only when it feels good, not to be tidy, right? Hence, the order of a fruit drawer = the former chaos of my brain.
While cleaning isn’t my tonic, the post-holidays blues have me in their tendrils and claws all the same. I’m doing palliative reading (at the kitchen island, but particularly in bed warmed by the kindlefire I found in my stocking), searching for words to link rather than cure, and yours have done the trick, so thank you.
Bruce, you have a double whammy this year: the normal let down from holidays and the let down from finishing a big project. I remember when I was acting, whenever we’d close a production I’d get a bad case of the blues. Perhaps it is time to consider putting together some sort of book tour even if it’s virtual??
Thank you for the shower mold picture. It’s a regular part of our shower, I can never quite get it all and am constantly ashamed of it. I admit, I always peek behind other’s shower curtains to see if they have it too. Usually I end up feeling better.
The other day, I started wiping something off the face of our dishwasher, next thing I knew, I had a bucket out and was scrubbing my kitchen cabinets, counter, walls & trim down with bleach. It felt good when I was done. It sparkles so much, I left the christmas lights up in there for the time being.
Oh! These words are softening my heart. A mold friend. A mold friend who wants to know if there are other mold people. Ahhhh. I am not alone. I want to be a clean person. Sort of. I mean I want to have that house that always sparkles and you could ALWAYS eat off the floor.
But I also want a dog. And a 15 year old boy who regularly walks in the house with muddy boots no matter how many times I remind him not to. And I have a myriad of distractions that ask me put my stuff down quickly and quickly make this magnet to go on the top of my spice jar because it will be so cute
You get the idea.
Cleaning sometimes comes in last place. But then I get really eager and go after it because it feels so great. I guess I’m a feel great gal.
I’m glad you left your Christmas lights up, Becky, to show off your sparkle.
” I let go of another layer of what makes a good mother.”
Ah, yes. I needed to read those words this afternoon, to be reminded that being a good mother seems to always entail letting go of preconceived ideas of what makes a good mother.
Nothing makes me feel better than cleaning. I’ve made peace with this. My brain sorts as I sort my house and, with everything scrubbed, I find quiet again.
As for mold in my shower? Well, we live within spitting distance of the bay. It grows while you’re scrubbing the other end of the tub