Every year since I was pregnant with my second son 33 years ago, I make fudge, rum balls, and other assorted treats. Even when the lupus was flaring, I dragged myself to the store and dragged myself through the baking. The thought of going to see my family without my traditional goodies was inconceivable. How could there be Christmas without fudge? This year, I made two pans of fudge. That's it. The ingredients for the rum balls are still sitting out on the counter. Maybe I will make them this week, maybe I won't.
What I knew intellectually, but finally have taken to heart is that the only person that seriously cares about making the fudge is me. My sons and their families don't have an emotional investment in fudge. I do. I created a tradition all by myself and then became a slave to it. Why do we do things like that? I don't have an answer. What I do know is this; awareness is the first step to change. I can do that. So can you.
No comments:
Post a Comment