Santa...

Santa Claus - possibility the most famous name ever mentioned in written history. But is there really a Santa Claus? I watched a show tonight on TLC about a woman's journey to find a man named Lucas A. Nast. The woman on the show was a news reporter who had covered a story about a mysterious event of snow in Arizona some years back. She had followed a trail to this man that she (I believe) was Santa.

Now whether or not the event that had happened to her was true or not - the events that she uncovered are quite mysterious. The show was about letters sent to the "Santa Program" put on by the Post Offices all around the country. This man Lucas A. Nast had been a part of it and many strange occurrence's surrounded letters written to Santa that he had fulfilled.  At the end of the show, she had gone to a post office that was hosting it's first "1st Annual Lucas A. Nast" toy drive. When she arrived and when she told the detectives her name - they had revealed quite a tale!

A man that had been arrested last year on Christmas Eve and held until charges were to be pressed - had left her a letter. It contained a letter she had written to Santa when she was about seven - shortly after her parents had died. She had asked him to bring her parents back - and alas, he could not. But what he did do was send her a picture that was taken of with him a year before her parents died at a department store in New York. It was somewhat of a moving tale I am sure for most, yet not me.

I was five years old when I stopped believing in Santa - I think my father had a lot to do with that. Although I did not know then, what I do now (my father had developed schizoaffective disorder and bi polar II prior to my birth) is that I am sure much of his delusions had something to do with this. I know it is why I have always wanted to be in the world of psychology. He made me want to understand people - and why they do the things that do. Back to my story...

So on the Christmas Eve when I was five, I woke up suddenly and knew in my heart of hearts that I had heard the sound of reindeer on the roof of our home. But sadly, that illusion changed by morning. I never felt that way again. I remember watching "Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer" as a child and always felt that I was the little lost doll on "Misfit Island". To this day, I still feel that way. So watching this show tonight, seeing how this "Santa" or as one person on the show had said "St. Nick" had answered all of these letters - how so many children had been touched by this mystical being - except me of course. I always dreaded Christmas - I still do. Although I must say that this year I am happier than I have been since I really don't know when.

I had confided in my therapist last year about this time of year that I felt like the unwanted doll on Misfit Island. She had no clue of what I was referring to - but it really didn't matter to me, I knew what I meant.

So this last week, at my new internship, as I am filling out paperwork for my new clients, I keep writing 12/14/14, instead of 12/11/14. I had mentioned this to the last client of the day and she had thought it was strange. In my mad hatter thoughts, I felt - maybe something special was going to happen on this date of 12/14/14. But alas - nada. Except maybe this show.

Once I became an "adult" (notice the quotes) meaning, on my own, job, apt, etc. I have always bought everything whatever I felt I needed or wanted, which left my family upset because they never knew what to get me. I think I did that because I needed to reassure myself that since Santa had never answered not one of my letters, I would make sure I got what I wanted.

So this year rolls around, same questions from my family - what do I want for Christmas? My youngest brother says - what do you want - I say - what I want - money cannot buy. And it is true.
All I have ever wanted was to know love - real love - no more false love. And so as another year rolls by, I am still the lost doll on Misfit Island waiting for someone to do just that. To want me, to care for me, to let me know what love is. But maybe it is not meant to be.

What I do know is that I will have the kids in my group write a letter to this "Santa" and maybe their wishes will be answered, since mine have gone unanswered.

Until then, I will remain - the lost doll on "Misfit Island"...

Carry On Wayward One...

"Carry on my wayward son - there will be peace when you are done", no truer words have been sung back in the late 70's by the band Kansas . I heard that song today and began to pond on my life as it is today. I've often wondered what the peace would be when one is finally done. And what do I have to be done with?

A while back I had a  very odd dream about my mom, grandma, grandpa and my sister in law's mother. Standing in the darkness - 4 coffins appear in from of me and opened - and there they all were. It was odd yet strangely familiar. Each one came out of their coffin and went off to pursue what ever it was they needed to do.

Without boring you with the odd deals of this dream, the end was most revealing. As it neared time for them to leave, they returned back into their coffins. I stood in front of my mother and asked if she would take me with her. Her arms opened up and I felt myself being pulled in...

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, a man's hand lands on my left should and states: "she can not go with you now, she has gotten her masters degree and there are things she needs to do". And then my mom now holding a glass jug of Christmas hand towels. She handed them to me. That was the end of the dream.

The creepy part was when I had gone the local Kmart where my youngest niece works and after I walked through the doors - there they were - racks and racks of Christmas hand towels. I was seriously creeped out at that point. Yet it was at that point that I realized the meaning of the towels. I have to have holidays of my own before I can move on - before I can lay down my head to rest.

Yet isn't that what we all seek? Rest ? Rest from our daily troubles and worries. Rest from the hustle and bustle of life. Do we truly find this rest here? Or does it lay else where? I know I have more in this life to do, yet I too seek for the finality of rest.

Until then...

"Carry on my wayward one - there will be peace when you are done"...