Old Stories, New Awareness

What the Holidays Really Stir Up

When recovery meets the quiet return of old escape thoughts

When the Thought Came Out of Nowhere

The season whispers before you notice

A couple of months ago, I told Barry I wanted to “get out of Dodge” for a week sometime during the holidays — anytime from Thanksgiving through New Year’s Eve.

That may not sound alarming on the surface. Plenty of people want to escape the holidays. But what caught my attention was how suddenly the thought appeared — and how convincing it felt.

I’ve been in recovery for over five years. I don’t usually jump ahead or try to control the future the way I once did. I’ve learned about living in the moment, letting go, trusting what’s in front of me.

And yet, there I was — Andy Williams already crooning It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year in my head, spurring my fingers across the keyboard as I Googled:

“Airbnb December 4–30.”

Anywhere. Anyplace. Just not within my four walls in North Jersey.

Nothing had happened.

No crisis.

No family drama.

No looming obligation.

And still — the urge to escape felt real.

Not the House. Not the Town. Not the People.

Eliminating the obvious explanations

Here’s the thing: I like our townhome. I like our town. I wasn’t being pulled in a dozen emotional directions by relatives or holiday expectations. No one was “playing me like a violin,” and there was no wooden-puppet version of me being yanked around by invisible strings.

This wasn’t dissatisfaction.

It was anticipatory discomfort — the feeling that something might be hard, and the reflex to get out ahead of it.

Old stories don’t need a reason.They just need a cue.

“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.”— Carl Jung

The Familiar Whisper of an Old Story

How patterns evolve when they’re no longer in control

What finally made me pause was how familiar the thought felt.

It reminded me of another voice I used to know well — the one that used to whisper, I bet I could just have one glass with my meal.

That thought didn’t shout.

It didn’t feel reckless.

It sounded reasonable. Mature, even.

This one felt the same.

Maybe a change of scenery would help.

Maybe leaving town would make the holidays easier.

Maybe I’d feel better if I just… left.

This is what old patterns do when they’ve lost their grip. They don’t disappear — they change costumes. They trade obvious self-destruction for socially acceptable escape.

This is what I mean when I talk about old stories and new awareness.

The story was still there — but my relationship to it had changed.

New Awareness in Real Time

What changed wasn’t the thought — it was my response

I didn’t shame myself for the thought.

I didn’t analyze it to death.

And I didn’t act on it.

I simply noticed it.

And then — something quietly miraculous happened.

Thanksgiving arrived, and all the anxiety I’d imagined never showed up. We had a lovely split day — appetizers and salad with my cousin’s new friends and family at his nursing home, followed by a warm dinner with relatives in the city.

Our Christmas tree? The first one I saw on the lot.Decorating? Just lights — courtesy of our demon cat, who sees ornaments as an invitation, not a boundary.Gift shopping? Easy strolls through our local downtown, supporting small shops, feeling present instead of pressured.

For a dozen reasons, I found myself right where I was — and genuinely grateful to be there.

“You do not have to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen.”— Franz Kafka

When the Old Wiring Sparks — But Doesn’t Catch Fire

Progress looks quieter than we expect

So what was that thought pattern I’ve been working on for all these years?

It was the old reflex to escape discomfort before it arrives.

To outrun feelings instead of feeling them.

To believe relief lives somewhere else.

The pattern still shows up sometimes — like an old electric cord that’s been frayed and taped. If pulled too hard, it might spark. But it no longer catches fire. It no longer runs the show.

Healing isn’t the absence of old wiring.It’s recognizing when it’s been tugged.

A Gentle Invitation

Curiosity is the doorway back to yourself

If the holidays stir something in you — an urge to withdraw, to control, to numb, to flee —

it doesn’t mean you’re failing.

It means an old story is tapping you on the shoulder.

Instead of arguing with it or obeying it, try getting curious.

What is this story trying to protect?What does it still believe it needs?What happens if you simply notice it — and stay?

You don’t have to fix anything yet.Awareness is enough.

Weekly Mantra:“I stay curious about my inner world.”