It is December 5 today; 20 days away from the worst day of every year. In twenty days, I will spend another Christmas holiday alone, without family – without anyone who really cares one way or the other about the status of my presence…
By 20 days from now, I will again be wishing for death, fast or slow; peaceful or brutal.
For me,, all of the days leading up to that day will be filled with open wounds and overdoses of shame.
There will be triggers and flashbacks that make me run on edge and cranky as Hell.
Not a single day between then and today will leave me feeling even remotely complete, as I’m shopping for gifts for the normal people in my life who celebrate the holidays like normal people – as I’m fucking pretending.
All of the nights in between Christmas and last night will suck just as badly as the days will suck, no rest for the wicked…or broken-hearted.
I will dream of things that will never be and never could’ve been.
I will wake up with that gut-empty feeling and feel afraid for three straight hours with each sunrise, never learning to put my finger on the source of these feelings, or, to put them in check, despite my frustrating efforts.
And, on Christmas Day, itself:
I will sleep as late as I can in an indentation at the edge of my cold bed – between it and the cold wall.
It will take me hours on end to force the salinity from these swollen eyes and face my relatives, solo.
I won’t want to open my eyes at all on that day, I promise…
It feels as if the shameful cycle of my existence always gets close to erupting at this time of every year.
Everyone knows to leave me alone.
People know that there’s nothing they can do for me, there’s no solutions to offer or insight that hits on point.
If I feel lonely enough to expose myself to my extended family on that day, I’ll regret it rather quickly;
And, eventually wind up saying something fucked up to a member of my own family in an over-anxious, depressed and defensive state, before storming out in tears.
Been there, wrecked that.
I call this entire song and dance “The Circle of Holiday Death” – it happens over and over and over and over.
Each time that my heart, mind-state and blood pressure begin to “normalize” after the re-opened wounds, it’s Christmastime once again, and it all starts over.
People will ask me if I am okay until I will begin to respond with anger and irritability;
They will not understand.
Even my closest friends will avoid me because they simply CAN NOT offer me comfort in any way and they know this (the friends who have not already become totally overwhelmed by my reality and disappeared, altogether, that is).
I will seethe will anger at certain thoughts during this time of year.
The people who have created this Living Hell for Boo being able to happily celebrate around a table with their own loved ones, their own precious children;
While my baby’s spending the day alone in a locked cage, being told that she’s unimportant and being shamed.
IT HURTS ENOUGH TO MAKE ME DERANGED…
And through it all, I MUST keep my grip on composure; for I am NO good to the (God willing) older Boo if I end up in prison or dead before she turns 18.
I do not plan on abandoning Boo ever – – no matter how fucking bad it hurts me to follow through with.
SHE NEEDS ME; even if she doesn’t know it yet.
I have long been aware of the fact that I can’t undo whatever it was that did Boo;
I can only build from where we stand, upwards.
Our “relationship” is so far gone that I don’t feel as if it’s even possible for us to grow any further apart anymore.
So I guess there’s just one direction to go with it all, when it comes to Boo.