I Hate Being Homesick Around the Holidays

Hello Strangers! Anyone out there...hello...???

Yes, it's been close to a year since I've last written. I could explain where I've been, what I've been doing, but it would be a novel. It goes something like this: Work, work some more, spend a little time with the husband, work, sleep a little, wake up in the middle of the night thinking about work, trying to find time (but nearly not enough) to call Veronica, work again. I'm tired 95% of the time and unfortunately haven't found a way to fit blogging into my schedule and it wouldn't feel right writing an entry that I only put a little bit of myself into.

Tonight I was feeling a little down and didn't want to call and wake up Veronica and then I remembered this blog and that it would be a great place to turn to.

I hate being away from my hometown for the holidays.

When I first moved out here 10 years ago, it was for college and I was able to spend every holiday back home. I would be there for 3 or 4 weeks and it was lovely. The comfort in being back in the room that I grew up in, the smell of the hand soap that I keep in my bathroom there, driving around the streets and seeing how much things have changed and in other places, how much they stayed the same. I loved it. The hard part was being away from the boy, but seeing my mom, brother, Veronica and other family made it all worth it. Then I graduated from college and grad school and got married and things changed.

This is going to be my 3rd Christmas away from home. I should start by saying that my husband, whose family is local, always says that we should go to my hometown for Christmas. However, New Years is a BIG holiday in my family and is the day that my Mom really wants me home and with our work schedules being hectic and only having so many vacation days, Christmas never really fits in to our trip itinerary. So we stay here.

The weird thing is that my family never did much for Christmas. My mom always works on Christmas day. We would have a tree, though it only went up because I put it up. And we wouldn't get together with lots of people but rather have a small, simple dinner consisting of lasagna or homemade pizza. It almost felt like any other day and for years I was disappointed that my family didn't do something more. And now, I realize that it was our way of celebrating and it breaks my heart that I'm not a part of it anymore. I hate putting my family's presents in boxes to ship across the country. I hate the feeling of distance when I make my phone call to them to wish them a Merry Christmas. I hate that it feels like this gets harder year after year.

I love that my husband and I are our own little family and I'm learning to realize the importance of tradition and embracing what we do to celebrate. This weekend we put up our Christmas tree, stockings, and lights outside the house and it made me smile. Last year we went ice skating on Christmas Eve and talked about going again this year. And we decided to make my family's lasagna that I ate for so many Christmases in the past. It's exciting. But I know that my eyes will still well up with tears as I think about my family back home and I'll feel guilty for not being there.

I don't know if it will ever get easier. And maybe that's ok.

I'd love to learn how to cope. Any advice?

And I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I will find the time to blog.

Love,

Betty