The REAL Christmas Letter 2017

2015 Real Christmas Letter

2016 Real Christmas Letter

In an effort to be authentic and honest, two years ago I wrote a blog post that should have been my family's real Christmas letter. I talked about the good times, but I talked about anxiety, depression, and marital struggles, too. The response from that blog post was so powerful that it should have been an easy decision to write another one in 2016, but it was not an easy decision at all. While the response overall was positive and deeply humbling, it also opened up conversations that I may not have been prepared to have quite yet. I was acutely aware of that as my mouse hovered over the "publish" button last year.

This year is different.

 I've been through some shit this year.

Looking back, 2014 and 2015 were still some of the hardest years of my life. 2016 wasn't much easier. But I could hide. I could post "vulnerable" and "raw" and "honest" blog posts about struggling but I was able to place that silly little stuff in a box (hi, compartmentalizing, we meet again) and wrap it in wrapping paper covered in Santas that I called "times for growth." I wrapped ribbon around and around the box and labeled that ribbon "therapy." I put a bow on top called "marriage vows" and when that one kept falling off I grabbed more, and even though those stupid bows are supposed to be self-adhesive it wasn't fucking working so I grabbed tape that I called "date nights" and shoved 45 bows onto this box of problems that I could pretend weren't going away, until -

2017. Turns out all the Santa wrapping paper, ribbon, and shitty bows can't hold everything together alone and eventually everyone will see your vulnerability, honesty, and fucked up-ness spilling out of that box.

So was 2017 harder for me than years prior? No. Yes. Maybe? I don't know. But I learned, when it comes to writing honestly, the difference now is that I don't care. I write for me, I write for God, and I try to give my kids and my life experiences and my loved ones the credit they deserve and 2017 taught me not to hover over that "publish" button for so long. (Unless you're a jerk who is posting hateful comments on YouTube videos or Facebook fights, then you really should hover for a long, long time and just maybe go get yourself some therapy ribbon instead - I can tell you where to find it.)

So here goes. So far, this year:

• I was given a whole lot of advice. Some of it awful, some of it good, but the best piece of advice I was given was around New Years. Dear, dear friends of mine (who have saved me, in so many ways) told me "Erynne, you need to give less fucks." I was doing everything, and I was doing it all with 110% effort, including kicking my own ass any time I made a parenting mistake. Turns out, that whole oxygen mask thing? Those flight attendants have a point. It was not easy, but I started putting on my own oxygen mask first, and giving less fucks when I made a mistake or had to acknowledge I had nothing left to give. My kids are happier as a result.
• I went to the gym, a lot. But still not as much as I should have.
• I volunteered in my kids schools. Not as much as I wanted. And I worked on letting that go.
• I cried, a lot.
• I shook with nerves some.
• I drank too much coffee.
• Some tea, too.
• I prayed. More than I think I've ever prayed before.
• I laughed. I laughed so, so much this year.
• I smiled til my face hurt, too many times to count.
• I continued to blush at the very thought of blushing.
• I was brave.
• My kids were braver.
• I learned I was resilient.
• I learned my resiliency doesn't hold a candle to my kid's resiliency.
• I sang Amazing Grace, Sanctuary, Head Shoulders Knees & Toes, Here I Am, Lord, Jesus Loves Me, Play that Song, Open Arms, Bitch, Shape of You and a million other contradictory songs, a lot. I sang them to my kids before bed, we danced to them in the kitchen, I sang in church, I used my 20 minutes of alone time in the car to belt them out loudly and obnoxiously.
• I learned that I'm not defined by my anxiety.
• During a period of immense loneliness and isolation, I never felt alone. I physically felt God with me. During what I could look back on as an intensely depressing experience, rather I look back on as the most faith affirming experience of my life thus far.
• I've started to learn how to discern.
• I cried on friend's shoulders, in meetings, in offices, on their couches, in my therapist's office, in the car, on the phone, and everywhere in between.
• But I've also been there for people crying in all of those places, and more. What a gift.
• I felt freedom.
• I had more girls nights than I can count.
• More fro-yo nights, too.
• I have forgotten to send birthday gifts, birthday cards, and pretty much anything else that my typical Type A self would send 2-3 weeks in advance.
• I made some silly, impulsive, and maybe a little dumb decisions (nothing earth shattering, thankfully.)
• I made some life-altering, difficult, powerful and good decisions, too.
• I watched my grandparents celebrate their 70th wedding anniversary.
• I started my dream job. Like, you guys. Every single day, I think "I can't believe they pay me to do this."
• I learned how incredible some of my friends are. I became closer with so many of them this year.
• I lost a couple friends, too. (But not many.)
• I've listened to my kids belt out  Moana, Frozen, and "Man, I feel like a woman" more times than I can count.
• I've watched my kid's put on magic shows, dance parties, concerts, and plays - and that's all in my living room.
• I've learned to be ok in the "un-knowing." To embrace it, even.
• I went on a bike ride with my siblings in Oregon. It was the first time I've ridden a bike in years. It broke. I had to walk home alone. I laughed so hard I almost peed. My sister in law came back for me.
• I've walked out of both of my children's schools thinking "Wow, I'm so grateful for this place and these people."
• I found my voice.
• I've hugged others, held others while they cried, prayed with and for others, and realized that God can use my broken heart to heal others.
• I rushed my kids to and from anywhere and everywhere for so many months in the spring, that I took them out of any extracurricular activities in the fall and I have not regretted it once.
• I have forgotten to RSVP. A lot. I'm sorry.
• I have asked for babysitting help more than I've been able to give it.
• I have forgotten to write thank you notes. (GASP! My 2015 self would so be hard core judging me right about now.)
• I listened to my 3 year old sing "twas grace that taught my heart to FIERCE and grace my FIERCE relieved."
• I held back a cringe as my 6 year old gushed about her crush. I held back my shit eating grin when weeks later she said "I'm too young to be thinking about getting married."
• I have sat on hold for hours.
• I have avoided writing emails, making calls, and having conversations I didn't want to have. And then sucked it up and did it anyways.
• I have cooked less, exercised less, called and texted back less, and you know what? I've stressed a whole lot less, too.
• I still have not learned how to give myself grace in a season where I might be doing more of the asking friends and family for help, than for giving.
• I have driven up and down Minnesota hundreds of times, and have a windshield covered in dings as a result.
• I have held hands - crossing the street, laying in bed, on the couch, walking into school, walking to the altar, walking home...I have held so many hands.

I entered this year broken. I am entering 2018 whole, all while holding the hands of these littles. I am so grateful.

...I once was blind, but now I see...I see.