a solstice celebration

I was listening to a friend this morning as she tried to find the word to describe how she felt about my family’s willingness to participate in our annual Winter Solstice celebration. It wasn’t jealousy, she said, because she was really happy for us, but maybe there was a bit of envy there because she couldn’t imagine even asking her husband to play in such present, reflective and non-traditional ways. 

I realize I’m really lucky. I also realize and celebrate how hard I’ve worked to create this reality, as my family’s openness and my willingness to ask for what I wanted wasn’t always the case.

I travel back in time, not to a prior Solstice, but closer to Spring Equinox, to Easter morning a big handful of years back. We had plans with extended family that afternoon, but I was really craving some quality nuclear family time before we headed out. I did my typical thing, polling each member of the family as to what they’d like to do. Answers varied from play with my Easter Bunny toys to watch TV. If we’d have been a more religious family, we’d at least had time sitting together in the pew of a church, but we didn’t have that glue. I tried to rally my husband for support. I tried cajoling my kids with the promise of maple syrup if we could all just dress and get to a restaurant for brunch. I was met with resistance from every side. 

I resigned myself to a typical Sunday morning routine with everyone doing their own thing at home. Bitterly, and full of self-pity I transferred the clean clothes from the washer to the dryer pushed the door shut. The latch didn’t catch, and it swung open. Not even aware of my mounting loneliness, hurt and rage, I kicked the door with my foot. It felt so good. I kicked it again, this time harder. It felt even better. One more time I stretched my bent knee back to get ample torque and let my bare foot fly. With all the commotion I was making, I’d roused curiosity and the stomping and pitter-patter of nearing footsteps could be heard. I was bawling at this point. The dryer was left in a V-shape and could only later be closed with three big strands of duck tape. The kids were staring at me in horror. 

What was WRONG with me my husband asked?

At the time, I hadn’t a clue, but with a whole lot of reflection (and paid therapeutic support) my situation became clearer to me. Nothing was wrong with me, but I wasn’t living a life in alignment with my values of connection, spirituality and quality family time, and I didn’t yet have the vision or skills to create it. I didn’t believe I deserved or had the power to create the rich family-life I wanted. And perhaps most crucially, I hadn’t the voice and confidence to express to my life-partner what I wanted to create.

My therapist helped me to see that if I wanted my life to be different than the one in which I was currently experiencing, then I needed to behave differently, either by creating powerful moments for connection on my own or by sharing explicitly with my husband what I wanted for our family and clearly making requests for us to do it together. It wasn’t fair to anyone if I was being ambiguous or passive-aggressive. She was my cheerleader, encouraging me in good ol’ Mary Oliver fashion to fight for the precious life I wanted to live, encouraging me to live boldly and deliberately. I was scared out of my mind. What if I asked in no uncertain terms for the kind of quality time and support I wanted and got denied?  What if I shared with my spouse the life I wanted to build and he wasn’t on board? 

Then you have very valuable information, she explained. 

Gulp. 

Flash forward through piles of journals.
Flash forward through loads of e-mailed attempts at conversation.
Flash forward through the awkward and jerky starts and stops of novice face-to-face, all-masks-off conversation.
Flash forward to participation in a Mindful Communications course and role playing with a classmate over the phone.
Flash forward to prayer and practice and failures and start-overs and redos and apologies and self-inflicted time-outs.
Flash forward to the important learning that I will be just fine should I have to create the life I want to live on my own.
Flash forward through the tearful and snot-filled vulnerability of meaningful, transparent and difficult heart-to-heart conversation.
Flash forward to now.

Now I can share confidently with all my men:

Guys, I love you so much. Nothing means more to me than to create really rich and meaningful experiences. This year for our annual Solstice celebration I have invited someone I really respect to do some soul work with us before the sun sets. You need to be home with an open mind and ready for action by 2:00. And because our time sleeping together in one room playing “olden days” means so much to me, I’ll pay anyone who makes it all the way until sunrise $20. Lastly, please come to our gathering with an activity, game or conversation starter to share. 

And guess what. 

When we were tucking ourselves in for the night and one of the boys asked, is it just me or has mom gotten her way all day? my incredibility supportive and very handsome husband replied yes, and that’s okay.