Jo Ind

The problem with Christmas is that it’s based on the notion that having dinner with our extended families is a jolly good thing.

I wonder where that idea came from.

In general, the families that we have come from do not give us all that we need – and that is healthy. It is what gives us the momentum to leave home and find happiness and fulfilment in other ways.

If the family from which we have come has done well-enough, it will have enabled us to become resourceful adults who can form friendships, become part of communities, engage in meaningful work and…er…create families of our own.

But at Christmas we do a very strange thing. We put aside the things that really do nourish us and go back to the people and the environments from which we needed to move on.

(‘Move on’ is the right expression for those from happier families.  ‘Escape’ is more apt for the rest of us.)

The strangest thing about this – the brandy butter on the Christmas pudding of this seasonal phenomenon – is that we make out this is special and wonderful and we’re all having a lovely time.

Merry Christmas everyone.

Last time I blogged, I was asking for help.

My pride at my four-year-old son, Arch, felt so overwhelming I felt it should not be seen in public. I wondered how other parents handled (or concealed) this obscenely primitive emotion.

As a result I have had three very helpful conversations, two on Facebook and one in the flesh, about the dilemma. (Is it a coincidence that the three people who helped me did not have children themselves?)

One discussion was about our ambivalence about pride of any kind. Is it good or is it bad?

We expect people to take a pride in their work, for example, but if they are too proud we wag our fingers at them: “Pride comes before a fall.”

I look in the dictionary and see it means both “excessive self-esteem” and “self-respect, personal dignity.”  Those are two very different things – opposites even – and yet the same word covers both. No wonder it’s confusing.

And then there’s that interesting point about whether we can be proud of something that has got nothing to do with us. I would not think so – and yet I am. (more…)