The end-of-year holidays usually have my emotions bouncing around like a racquet ball in a room full of ADHD kids; I zoom from up to down to mediocre, back up, back down on a day-to-day basis that is wholly unpredictable not only for myself but for those who have to deal with me (for which I apologize in advance).
November and December are hard months for me. If you asked me outright how I felt about the holidays in general my answer would be (shoulder shrug) "Meh."
Meh. "I am indifferent."
"Meh" is a lie. It's a way to politely excuse myself from explaining how I really feel about the holidays . . . which can range from ecstatic glee to rival any 4-year old (snow! presents! tree ornaments! food! candy! presents! snow!) all the way down to a humbug so far up my butt that Scrooge himself would come out shining like the silver and holly-sprigged Ghost of Christmas Present in contrast.
Saturday I went xmas shopping with my friend Meg and today snow is in the forecast and I'm excited about it all--I even found the perfect xmas card! I'm stoked about turkey, trying out a new cranberry sauce recipe, making presents, maybe setting up a tree this year and rediscovering the ornaments carefully wrapped and stashed in storage. Stoked!!
And, to underscore the low point of my holiday spirit (mercurial, I tell you), here's something I wrote just over a week ago:
I really don't like the holidays, that is to say, SPECIFIC holidays. The family holidays: Thanksgiving and Christmas.
Don't like them. I'd even go so far to say that I hate them.
I wish I could avoid and ignore them all together, but they keep coming back year after year and bringing with them 60 or so days of prep and scheduling and irritating shoppers who do nothing but bitch in front of their children while wearing their Sunday Best and spouting off in anger to some poor sales clerk, and I get this line between my eyebrows from the tension of thinking about spending "quality" time with my family, and generally it's really just two whole months of waiting to be disappointed, discounted, argued with, or generally made to feel like crap.
I DO try to keep a positive outlook and remember the true spirit of togetherness and community behind the celebrations, which is why every year I'm still involved in gifts or visits or whatever in some respect. There are still some good things. But not enough, and not for a long time.
As far as I'm concerned, The Holidays can take a hike. There just are not enough good things left to recommend them anymore. Some of the biggest slaps-in-the-face in my life happened during The Holidays, and those associations are the base of my feelings about Thanksgiving and Christmas; they run the gamut from finding out Santa is a big fat lie (on Christmas morning, no less; talk about a mood killer) to being told that I'm no longer wanted in this family and will be turned over to foster care on Monday.
I'm overwhelmed with memories and feelings of absolute shite; I can't even think about Thanksgiving or Christmas without cringing like I'm waiting for someone to attack, or just outright getting depressed and freaked out about sharing space with 15 of my closest relatives all in the same house either arguing or ignoring each other under the guise of kinship. Emotionally I am tweaked and freaked and either depressed or pissed off, and I'm physically and mentally exhausted for two months. Hell, I even get anxious and upset at the thought of spending time with someone else's family for the holidays!
The funny thing is, my family isn't even that big anymore--the last couple of years have been low-key, fairly drama-free as far as holidays go, easier to swallow. A few have been excellent, and they are what keep me hopeful and coming back the next year, for good or bad. I still freak out, though, and it does not let up until finally it's all over and I'm safely in January, free.
I don't hate my family. I just really, REALLY don't like the damn holidays; they are a poor and tattered imitation of what they should be, yet sold wrapped in shiny gold paper and touted as the most wonderful time of the year. There is no hope, no love, no respect, no promise, no thoughtfulness, no enjoyment in them.
Tonight just thinking about Thanksgiving and family get-togethers on the drive home made me cry. I'm not doing it this year I think--I'm going to stay home and eat a turkey sandwich and scrape wallpaper instead and just enjoy quiet solitude. Maybe by the time T-day rolls around I'll feel better about it, but if I'm this upset now I should probably just isolate myself from my family anyway for everyone's sake. I hate the holidays.
** **
I am cautiously optimistic--it was bad that I freaked out so easily last week, because it means that as the actual dates draw nearer I may find myself back there again just as quickly, but it's good that this week I'm excited about the things that are worth celebrating and enjoying. I'm looking forward to it. Today.
Net result: meh . . .
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