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Holiday Blues
Copyright © 2009 by Richard A. Grossman, Ph.D. · All Rights reserved · E-Mail: ragrossman@voicelessness.com
If you are unhappy or dissatisfied with your life, chances are you suffer even more during the holidays. People compare their lives to those around them--when they perceive others are intimate and connected, their alienation becomes even more painful. They also blame themselves for their inability to take pleasure in events that are supposed to be satisfying. They tell themselves: "Everyone else is having a good time--there must be something terribly wrong with me." Family members echo this self-blame, if not in words then in actions: "We are a wonderful family--you have no reason to feel bad in our presence, so snap out of it."
Of course, there is no snapping out of it. And sometimes there is nothing " wrong" with the holiday sufferer. In fact, very often he or she is the member most sensitive to the damaging hidden messages and the "voice wars" that occur in the subtext of family life. Voice, the sense of interpersonal agency, is like any other essential commodity. If it is in short supply within a family everyone competes for it: spouse vs. spouse, sibling vs. sibling, and parent vs. child. At holiday time, when families are together, the battle for voice intensifies.
Consider, Patty L., a single, 32 year old financial planner who is a client of mine. She always feels depressed as Christmas day approaches. Her mother, Estelle, makes a lavish, picture-perfect dinner at the family house--the same house Patty grew up in. Her father, grandfather, and older brother all participate. The house is lit brightly, a fire roars in the fireplace, and one would think that Patty should look forward to the occasion. But she dreads it. Below the surface charm, a fierce voice war rages in the L. family. It is a war that no one is allowed to address--everyone must pretend that all is well, otherwise the family begins to come apart at the seams. Cheerful fiction is the glue.
In the kitchen, Estelle is in complete control--otherwise things won't be done "right." Patty helps out, but she is not allowed any initiative. She does what her mother says, chopping this, adding a little spice to that, and quickly she finds herself shrinking so that she barely hears her footsteps on the pine floor. She cannot make even a side dish, to do so would make the dinner more hers and less her mother's, and the meal must be a reflection of her mother. Estelle has good reason to maintain control--she can't do anything right in her father, Walt's, eyes. The dinner is about proving herself--and Estelle has to do it every year.
Last year, Walt shoved his plate aside because Estelle had put sliced almonds rather than walnuts in the sweet potatoes. "You know I hate almonds," he bellowed. From the rage in his voice, one would guess his daughter had tried to poison him. He looked at the almonds as if they were dead cockroaches, and then laid his fork and knife next to each other in the plate. Estelle jumped up, carried his plate to the kitchen, and then returned with fresh servings of food, this time, of course, without sweet potatoes.
"Don't you have any sweet potatoes without the damn nuts?" he asked bitterly.
This year the family waits for Walt's explosion, but so far nothing
Page 2
Of course, there is no snapping out of it. And sometimes there is nothing " wrong" with the holiday sufferer. In fact, very often he or she is the member most sensitive to the damaging hidden messages and the "voice wars" that occur in the subtext of family life. Voice, the sense of interpersonal agency, is like any other essential commodity. If it is in short supply within a family everyone competes for it: spouse vs. spouse, sibling vs. sibling, and parent vs. child. At holiday time, when families are together, the battle for voice intensifies.
Consider, Patty L., a single, 32 year old financial planner who is a client of mine. She always feels depressed as Christmas day approaches. Her mother, Estelle, makes a lavish, picture-perfect dinner at the family house--the same house Patty grew up in. Her father, grandfather, and older brother all participate. The house is lit brightly, a fire roars in the fireplace, and one would think that Patty should look forward to the occasion. But she dreads it. Below the surface charm, a fierce voice war rages in the L. family. It is a war that no one is allowed to address--everyone must pretend that all is well, otherwise the family begins to come apart at the seams. Cheerful fiction is the glue.
In the kitchen, Estelle is in complete control--otherwise things won't be done "right." Patty helps out, but she is not allowed any initiative. She does what her mother says, chopping this, adding a little spice to that, and quickly she finds herself shrinking so that she barely hears her footsteps on the pine floor. She cannot make even a side dish, to do so would make the dinner more hers and less her mother's, and the meal must be a reflection of her mother. Estelle has good reason to maintain control--she can't do anything right in her father, Walt's, eyes. The dinner is about proving herself--and Estelle has to do it every year.
Last year, Walt shoved his plate aside because Estelle had put sliced almonds rather than walnuts in the sweet potatoes. "You know I hate almonds," he bellowed. From the rage in his voice, one would guess his daughter had tried to poison him. He looked at the almonds as if they were dead cockroaches, and then laid his fork and knife next to each other in the plate. Estelle jumped up, carried his plate to the kitchen, and then returned with fresh servings of food, this time, of course, without sweet potatoes.
"Don't you have any sweet potatoes without the damn nuts?" he asked bitterly.
This year the family waits for Walt's explosion, but so far nothing
Page 2
Voicelessness and Emotional Survival
Holiday Blues
Holiday Blues
Voicelessness and
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