Positive Manipulation

A tale from December, 2000

Tis the season to be jolly, but some years ago, Christmas became especially difficult for me emotionally. Just one month before the holiday, I was getting married after being divorced for over half a decade, but the wedding did not take place. Although intellectually I acknowledged that the break up was meant to be and that better days were coming, emotionally I felt my heart tug at what could have been. So it was not surprising when my daughter asked for a “huge” Christmas tree and I was less than delighted with the idea. “Heather, with your big brother just moving in with Daddy, why don’t we have a cute little tree and just use the ornaments we had from last year?” “No”, she demanded, “I want a real tree, with the small needles and lots of branches on it!” Great, I moaned to myself. The more branches, the more lights I have to tackle with.

So off to the nursery we went, one very rainy night, to make our selection. With umbrellas in hand, we searched through yards of propped pines and firs in all sizes, trying to decipher which was the best tree for our little corner in the dining room. “Mommy, I like this one!” “Heather, that tree is nine feet tall. It won’t even fit through the door!” “Mommy, look at that one!” “Heather, that is a blue spruce and costs $200!” “But Mommy”, she pleaded with knees bouncing, “I really, really, want this one!” She pointed to another and I continued to argue, “Heather, it’s four feet wide and will take up half the room!” This went on for half an hour. My feet were wet and numb, her hair was sopped right through and it wasn’t getting any earlier. “Heather, let’s pick out a tree and get out of here before we get sick. Here, here is a great looking five footer. Let’s just buy it!”

Well the whining began, my desire to keep the peace won out, and so did Heather. Two days later, the nursery left, or should I say, abandoned, an eight foot, 42” wide blue spruce at my front door. Attempting to drag the trunk through the house without stripping it clean of branches, I couldn’t help but wonder, “I’m a little woman, how am I going to handle this huge tree all by myself?” Needleless to say, (No, that’s not a typo!) the next day, Heather and I came home from work, and school, to find the tree sprawled horizontally across the dining room. Unable to properly screw it into the base due to my lack of biceps and energy the night before, our yuletide lumber ended up toppling over, leaking water all over the hard wood floors and brand new area rugs.

The sight of all that water, with pine needles strewn every which way, caused a major bolt to run through me. Remember the scene in the Frankenstein movie when the deranged doctor pulls that huge electrical switch and the lightening comes down to fill the monster with power? Well picture a 5 foot 3 inch, petite brunette with the same mad scientist look on her face, pick up a 50-pound, eight-foot monster of a tree and hurl it through a door, ten feet into the front yard!

I became infused with anger and just kept marching around the house, searching for towels, a broom, a vacuum, babbling on about having to do everything myself and never wanting a tree in the first place. “And who cares about Christmas and whoever came up with the lame idea of putting a live tree in a house anyway!” My daughter, who was frantically trying to sop up the wet floor, bent over on hands and knees, was apologizing profusely, unsure of where to go or what to say. “I’m sorry Mommy, I’m so sorry! I’ll help you. I promise!”

Struck by the innocence in her voice, I stopped and looked down at the little blond head I saw across the room. I watched tiny droplets of tears fall from reddened cheeks into the puddle beneath, and suddenly remembered about her life and being a kid of divorce and how meaningful it was for her to keep such a beautiful family tradition in force. Flashbacks of every traumatic event we had gone through as a family and of how hard I had worked for so many years to keep my children’s lives “normal” came barreling forward. For so long I managed to manipulate every negative thought and feeling I had, despite extreme adversities and challenges, and now, I was “quitting” on her, and myself, by not letting go of some deep-seated negativity attached to a stupid tree! Somehow, I managed to flip the monster switch back to its “off” position and I became a Mom again, consoling until we both felt calmed and relaxed.

Hours later, when the last remnants of pine needles were disposed of, and the house was silenced for the night, I peeked out the window to find the tree standing straight up in the yard, leaning against a bush. “Now you stand tall?” I mumbled through the glass, as if it were defying gravity just to spite me. I pondered over how much adrenaline it must have taken to get it to land so perfectly, and then tried to focus on the real issue; ‘why have I been reacting so intensely to something as innocuous as a tree?’

The words of rage used earlier in the day echoed more quietly in my head as a Positive Manipulation™ process began to separate the information from the intense anger it was attached to. “I have to do everything myself!” really meant, “I was alone, and I was not supposed to be alone. This is a job for two.” In my current state of mind, the tree denoted what I did not have, all that I was still responsible for, and everything that I now had to do by myself. It made me realize how exhausted I was trying to be “strong enough” to raise two children when I didn’t have the energy to even “raise” a tree. More importantly, this was supposed to be a holiday that brought families together, not about “who gets the kids this year”. To top it off (the pun is intended) I was being told what to do by a ten year old. I couldn’t even opt to mourn through the season because I had to bring the Christmas spirit to my little girl, irrespective of how my heart was aching.

An honest look into my persona further revealed that normally there was no “woe is me” attitude and nothing I did daily as a mother ever seemed like a sacrifice, but instead was done out of love. I had to acknowledge, however, that raising children to be honorable humans was a most important, exhausting and selfless job and with any job, you expect some kind of reward, or even just an acknowledgement, of how hard you are trying. It had been years of constant self-expenditure “being it all, doing it all and giving it all”, and as parents, married or not, we know the pay-off may never seem tangible while you are going through it.

When I finally realized that, “I may never be able to do everything, but that is okay, because I am doing everything I can,” the negative episode became a healing experience. A new, healthier perspective emerged and the Christmas tree would no longer bear the weight of my struggles or exhibit the disparity of our household. Instead it would be just what it was intended to be; a piece of nature used to light up a home and gingerly display from its branches, little memories of holiday love and laughter from year to year.

The next day after work, Heather and I returned home to find my parents putting up an artificial tree. It was adorable; five feet tall, and with all the lights permanently attached! I couldn’t have been happier, and my daughter loved it despite its petite stature and plastic needles. Although I was horribly ashamed of my initial behavior, I felt the spirit of the season rush back when my step-Dad plugged in our new present and proudly announced with a huge grin, “Donna, it’s got 300 lights and all you have to do is pick it up and put it in the attic after New Year’s!” “Pop”, I rejoiced as I watched the trees’ lights flicker in his eyes, “You two have just given me the best Christmas gift I could have gotten this year!”

p.s. You may want to know that the despondent tree left in my front yard was donated to another single mom and daughter who could not afford one. They were thrilled to have it!

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