dariaphoebe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dariaphoebe) wrote2018-12-30 11:33 am
dariaphoebe) wrote2018-12-30 11:33 am
Entry tags:
the Christmas gift I nearly got
It was a moment that was hard, but there I sat: gifts, wrapping paper, tape and scissors arrayed around me on the area rug that covered our dining room floor beneath the table. Sporadically I would wrap a gift, before pausing again to collect myself and try to shut out the things I wasn't ready to think about.
At some point, I paused to look for a box for one of the gifts, and it prompted a discussion amongst us about reboxing gifts before wrapping. In that moment, I remembered another Christmas, now nearly 20 years distant.
I've seldom made any secret of who I was. Who I am. Both my ex-spouses knew my truth before they married me. With strangers, when little was at stake, I could be forthright, but even with family I barely maintained the plausible deniability of a joking sort. So, on this day that we sat together opening Christmas gifts, the gift from my then-mother in law gave me a start.
Upon peeling back the wrapping paper, what faced me was a shoebox. The modest heeled sandals depicted thereupon were my large, atypical size. I froze, at least physically.
"Are we doing this? Is this the day? Do we need to have a conversation about this now?", my mind raced.
Prompted by a comment from the group around me, I opened the box. The anxiety response dissipated: no shoes. A small disappointment ramped up, instead. How close had I been? Why couldn't that have been the moment, the endorsement, the embrace of the real me?
The gift came out, and instead I went in, the person I was scared to show went into the box, to be revisited another day.
At some point, I paused to look for a box for one of the gifts, and it prompted a discussion amongst us about reboxing gifts before wrapping. In that moment, I remembered another Christmas, now nearly 20 years distant.
I've seldom made any secret of who I was. Who I am. Both my ex-spouses knew my truth before they married me. With strangers, when little was at stake, I could be forthright, but even with family I barely maintained the plausible deniability of a joking sort. So, on this day that we sat together opening Christmas gifts, the gift from my then-mother in law gave me a start.
Upon peeling back the wrapping paper, what faced me was a shoebox. The modest heeled sandals depicted thereupon were my large, atypical size. I froze, at least physically.
"Are we doing this? Is this the day? Do we need to have a conversation about this now?", my mind raced.
Prompted by a comment from the group around me, I opened the box. The anxiety response dissipated: no shoes. A small disappointment ramped up, instead. How close had I been? Why couldn't that have been the moment, the endorsement, the embrace of the real me?
The gift came out, and instead I went in, the person I was scared to show went into the box, to be revisited another day.