You can only play the game so long until the game starts playing you. This is the sentence that popped into my 2018 head! Happy New Year, or maybe not. After all, look at 2017, she says. You have my permission to be skeptical and wise about your expectations. I barely got through 2017 and they said Happy New Year in 2017, too. Egad. The game is on.

I emailed my brother last night, wondering to him why we were both so anxiety-based. He threw out the idea that it might be because we had a shame-based upbringing and that is totally true. Without going into details, let’s just say our father was a pill-popper and they were called headache pills. He owned a pharmaceutical company and had access to most anything, including physician friends that didn’t mind using their prescription pad for him.

Our childhood was mottled with his attempts to get clean; they rarely worked. And so we worked to keep him from exploding in rage at my mother, who played the role of enabler. Anxiety and dread were rampant around the family table. Christmas was when he had his worst scenes. Trying to get an electric train to run, he erupted into something that was not a Christmas carol, not at all. We were terrified of him. And yet he had a big heart. A heart that took care of nuns, that gave money so that children could have toys under the tree, a heart that sang us to sleep when we were little.

I, you see, come from a family of mortals. You know, we are not taught that as children. Mortal is too strong a word. As I age, I understand the terror of the grave. What if I never “get it”? Oh, yes, we all fear we will die before understanding why we live our lives in such fear and dread.

I have been a good student, a good wife, a good mother, a good friend. None of it kept the fear at bay. The fear of displeasing anyone in front of me. So I am fabulous at hiding behind words. Mine are inspirational. My father’s were confrontational. I have his genes. In fact, you have them, too. We are all swimming in the same pool and we are all peeing in it. Happy New Year.

Let me close with saying that I am drowning in love and do not as yet recognize it. I am having too much trouble warding it off. It comes disguised as anxiety, rejection, heartache, soul sickness and a helluva lot of denial. I read the words of Jesus and I know that He knows the situation, has it under firm control. And that my father is with him and my spouse and daughter and all of us both living and dead. Go figure. Or maybe just take the next breath and the next….

Happy New Year, she said, feeling in her heart that somewhere deep inside she means it.

Vicki Woodyard