Life is the Special Occasion

My daughter and I went Christmas shopping on Saturday.  It was such a nice day. We took our time, we didn't have a set plan, just went to stores we liked.  Finished up with a late lunch, and then home.  In one of the stores (TJ Maxx) we went to, there was a small purse I caught her looking at. It was pale blue, with sparkles and a diamond bow for the clasp.  I asked her if she liked it.  She said that she really did.  I told her to get it.  Her response was, "When would I ever use it?"  "Well, negative Nance, when you go out. When you go to the store.  Anytime."  "Mom." Said in the tone that is harboring a feeling of  'my life isn't like that anymore, and doesn't look like it ever will be again'  hopelessness.  That kind of response always brings up a slight swirl of panic in me.  I'm always afraid of the unknown piece of anxiety that might taunt her into hopelessness, and then drinking. So, I pointed out something else, and then, when she wasn't looking, put the purse under a shirt in my cart.  Yes, it will be in her stocking. (These stockings for my kids. I am not a seamstress. One year, however, when the kids were small I decided to sew them each a stocking. I went to the fabric store, bought festive material, and sewed two stockings. They were so narrow, I could fit maybe two candy canes in them. So, I went and bought more material, and made two more stockings. That time, they ended up so big, that it would take me most of my time thinking of things to get to fill them with.  Now, that is pretty much what gets filled. It's a fun tradition).

My daughter's response to the purse, though, got me thinking of my mom.  In my parents' house there is a closet in one of the bedrooms. In that closet my mom stored 'the good sheets' for when company would come. A few 'good' nightgowns for trips she would take. Special towels, to go along with the sheets for when company came. Those items are still in the closet, almost in pristine condition.  My mom is gone.  What is also in her closet are some 'special' outfits, shoes, jewelery that she would only were a few times a year.  For 'special occasions.'   The good china is still in the dining room china cupboard, along with the stemware, that was rarely used.  I'm not sure what company she was waiting for.  When we would visit, we got the everyday sheets, and towels (soft and comfortable). We ate on everyday plates, and drank from the glasses I remembered as a child. Though I was content with that, as I look back, my mom should have been using the china and stemware everyday.  She should have put a new set of sheets on every week.  She should have worn her good jewelry to sit on the porch, because Life is the special occasion. 

Now that I'm on this journey of trying to understand addiction, I feel as though I try to sift through every thought that used to be common, to find something uncommon or unique to apply to why someone gets sucked into addiction.  Maybe it's because life as a special occasion has become such a far away concept.  We can get so caught up in routine, and day to day sameness, and the stress of being someone else's success, that the special, Divine quality of life gets lost and we're left with the perception that there is no meaning to life.  What's it all for?  If there is no meaning, then there is no reason for hope.  So, my conscious effort is to keep life as the special occasion I believe it was meant to be.  Not to allow myself to get caught up in dull routine or become blind to the glitter and shine that resides in each day and the people we love.