Tales from Two Tables

By Dina Palma and Lindsay Reynolds

We all know that social media shares one side of the holidays; all things are merry and bright. We also know there is another side to most of our stories that people aren't posting, one “where an emptiness began to grow”. Many of us may be experiencing both the joy of the season and the sorrow that often accompanies it. 

When asked to consider what our table might look like this year, the dreamer, the romantic, or the artist in us may envision a circular table full of flowers, food and all the people we love. There may be ice sculptures and decorations and gifts for all. When people sit at that table, they feel accepted and safe. They can be their true, most authentic selves. There is no head of the table or hierarchy. No divide between gender. No hiding our struggles. No taking anything for granted.

However, the realist, the historian, and the therapist know that most tables do not look or feel like those we dream of. Today, we are sharing two tales from two tables that reflect the things that social media is not able to capture: the hurt that comes with the season and the hearts that hold it.

“Hey Deanie, it’s Mark. Merry Christmas!”

Holidays of the Past

For nearly a decade, unresolved trauma, substance abuse, discord and the devastating loss of life joined me at the table set for 11, when there were only nine guests. The roast and potatoes habitually paired with vacant glares and compelling smiles, centered between silent wars that could not be named, and finding one’s place between white lines and white lies. 

Avoidance and emotional numbing were just some of the ways we coped with what we were not able to say and wounds that had not yet healed. 

Gift of Time 

5 - 10 - 15 years later, time allowed for recovery, reconciliation and rebuilding. With the absence of fear, cautiously we began to make amends with ourselves and with some of those we had hurt. We learned to see who we were within our family system, who we are capable of being outside our system, and grew strength and confidence in place of self doubt and unknowing. With a greater sense of self, new pathways, and firmer boundaries, our family of nine returned to the table - healthier and better able to create a system we could all thrive in.

Holidays of the Future

2021 for many of us, was a homecoming of sorts, for others a new start. How lucky for me it was both. 

This holiday season, my family will come to the table once again. This time we will be joined by a large portion of pride, a sense of belonging and a heaping of growth and change. Proof that in some cases, when we are able to shed all that we were and discover all that we can be, we were able to find a healthy way to (re)connect to those people and places important to us, who have also transformed. 

Even when it hurt. Even when we didn’t want to. I’m grateful, like so many of you have done, that we were able to show up for one another.  What I could not have known was how the very thing that we had lost for so long, would indeed be found again; peace within and between. 

Where Are You, Christmas?

Right now, my table does not look the way that I want. In fact, I don't even have a table of my own yet. I do have a place where my projects sit and where I work, but I do not have a dedicated space that gets set up for meals and family visits. I am in a state of transition. I tend to move impatiently toward the future, always trying to achieve milestones before time runs out.

I want my own table. A place of my own, with space to breathe and grow and invite others to. A home in which to raise my own family and build new memories. My own place where I can feel accomplished, independent, and unstuck. 

Turning Tables

I have faith that this will happen one day. Right now, with all the dreams I have for the future, I still imagine what it would look like to set the table like I would the clock. Backward. Back to the meals I took for granted. Back to the times when our most significant obstacle was finishing our vegetables so that we were allowed to eat ice cream and watch Nick at Nite. Back to when we were all together and had no foresight of the challenges we would all face or how far we'd grow apart. Back to the moments when we believed our experiences had no end, and we embodied the joy and spirit of the season.

I miss that table I sat at as a child. We never felt hungry. My family was together every night for dinner. I can still see their faces and hear laughter and shouting over clinking forks and knives. We did not scroll through social media apps or talk to people who were not physically in the room. No television or music was playing. There were no empty chairs and no extra place settings. There was only us, the food, and the stories we told. We were present. 

Back to the Future

It's hard now to imagine how many years have passed since I last shared a holiday meal with these very same people. Vacant chairs of those still breathing but distant remain in the other room. Sacred, dusty old plates are left untouched and still resonate with the sounds of lost voices. I sometimes want to eat from these plates just to feel close to these people again. 

Year after year, when I realize the holiday tables I will sit at will not be joined by all the people I love, I find myself foolishly dreaming of my own place again, moving me away from those I am still privileged to share a meal with. I am often filled with guilt, wondering what I missed while I was getting lost in what I wish I had.

This year instead, I'll set the table forward. I will create a clean, simple table that invites conversation, embraces silence, and nourishes the body and soul. I will create a table filled with hope and grace - because I deserve a place to sit, rest and enjoy a good meal in good company. 

HEARTS AND HOLDING

We hope these tales gave you a glimpse into how we honor the parts of the story that do not always get revealed. The parts that will hurt others if we say them outloud or hurt us even more if we acknowledge them.  

In our community, you do not have to worry about getting “sad” all over everyone or pressured to fill a void.  We see you. We know you might be tired, burnt out, or have trouble finding the magic. We want you to create a space where you can share your stories, whether it's with friends, family, or quiet moments found in creativity. When in doubt, we encourage you to lean into our community and share your experiences with us. We’ve even created a space for you to anonymously release your holiday stress and anxieties here!

Please use this submission form to tell us what is making your holiday “heavy”. This is a completely anonymous submission purely for you to “get it out” and share your story. We hope it makes all of the weight you have been to carrying feel a bit lighter.