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Let your heart be light
Dec. 25th, 2010 07:59 pmSo. Christmas. Ho ho ho & what-not.
It's really hard to explain what I'm feeling, because I'm not sure I even know what it is. My head hurts & it's kind of just too much, you know? Sometimes you don't even want to expend the energy to think about it. You've got an ache in your chest and you know something is bothering you, but you don't want to deal with it. You spent the day with your uncle, aunt, and cousin's family, & that's fine. It's more than fine. It's far better than many other holidays you've had, that's for damned sure.
So it's like--why even bother dwelling on anything else? Just push it down. Push it away.
It doesn't matter that the only gifts you got were the manipulation bombs from your loca-ass drug addict mother (which got donated), a $100 check from your father (included in a card with no personal note--same as every year), and a plant-watering chia pet-lookin' thing from your schizophrenic uncle. That's okay.
It doesn't matter that no one called you.
It doesn't matter that your grandma doesn't send you a card anymore.
It doesn't matter that your dad couldn't think of more than two things to say to you when you called him, despite only talking to you on holidays. It doesn't matter that neither your stepmom nor your brother asked to speak with you.
It doesn't matter that your nephew never called to thank you for his present.
Does any of this surprise you? No.
So, get over it.
This is what I'm telling myself. It's partially working, for what it's worth. I know the drill: one foot in front of the other. This is just another day. At least I didn't have to spend the day with my mom & stepdad, right? Even though that's depressing in its own way, due to what it represents, it does have its perks. No drama. No crazytimes. I mean, would I like to have a mother I could spend today with? Yes. Would I like to have a dad who acts like he loves me? Yes. But oh well. It could always be much worse. Would some of the traumatized refugees on Yemen's Beach of Death like life to cut them a break? Duh. My apartment looks pretty spiffy in comparison. Of course it's not a competition though, but my point remains. I didn't ask for any of this, it does suck, and I have a very legitimate right to feel sad; however, in response to the big bag of dicks life handed me, I made a choice--at least as far as my mom, stepdad, and sister were concerned--and it was the right choice. All I can do now is listen to what the Serenity Prayer says: accept what I can't change, change what I can, and do my best to learn the difference.
Doesn't mean it's easy though. Especially on days of cultural/familial significance.
I am glad I was able to see my uncle & them though. That was nice. I admit I felt a bit like a stray dog/pity guest--there were a few random "no one should have no place to go on Christmas. That's ridiculous. . .there's always an extra setting here. . .keep family close!" comments & then everyone was all noddy & I felt very on the spot--but I do think my uncle genuinely enjoyed having me there, so it's okay. As for how he's doing, re: the lung cancer, he was in the hospital for a few days again this week due to coughing & a low blood count (no one told me until today though), and honestly it just seems like things are slowly getting worse. My aunt mentioned something about how they'd cook the turkey "next year," and all I could think was, "he won't be around by then." Because really. I just don't think he will be. I'm trying not to think about it, because there's really just no point--we all know he's terminal & all you can do is live day by day in that case--but yeah. It's sad. All afternoon my cousin's baby (who is frakking ADORABLE, by the way. Happiest baby ever) was waving at him and clapping, and I just couldn't stop thinking about how he won't be around to watch him grow up. I hate it. It's a horrible thing to think, but he deserves to live so much more than either of my parents. He's so much nicer. It's really, really not fair.
. . .and I think that officially makes me an evil person. I probably shouldn't admit to thoughts like that on Christmas, huh? Oh well. I'm nothing if not honest. It's just, he smiles at me, you know? He smiles, and he watches Firefly, and BSG, and offers me chocolate, and he's not mean. He's never been mean. Not ever. I don't want him to die.
Okay, I think that's enough for today. On the bright side: I made it. Christmas is over, finally, and it wasn't even really that bad. It was actually decent & fairly nice-ish. Even though I'm sitting here with tears streaming down my face. Such is life. As Micah said to Bones, it's better to feel sad than dead, right? At least it means you care.
And on that note, I'll leave you all with a Vid of the Day (this time by PsychotiicSlayer). Let's let the cast of Bones kiss the boo-boos and make it all better, shall we? If nothing else, at least Christmas gives me an excuse to rewatch my favorite episode every year, "The Man in the Fallout Shelter". ("Woman in Limbo" just barely misses a tie & earns the silver).
It's really hard to explain what I'm feeling, because I'm not sure I even know what it is. My head hurts & it's kind of just too much, you know? Sometimes you don't even want to expend the energy to think about it. You've got an ache in your chest and you know something is bothering you, but you don't want to deal with it. You spent the day with your uncle, aunt, and cousin's family, & that's fine. It's more than fine. It's far better than many other holidays you've had, that's for damned sure.
So it's like--why even bother dwelling on anything else? Just push it down. Push it away.
It doesn't matter that the only gifts you got were the manipulation bombs from your loca-ass drug addict mother (which got donated), a $100 check from your father (included in a card with no personal note--same as every year), and a plant-watering chia pet-lookin' thing from your schizophrenic uncle. That's okay.
It doesn't matter that no one called you.
It doesn't matter that your grandma doesn't send you a card anymore.
It doesn't matter that your dad couldn't think of more than two things to say to you when you called him, despite only talking to you on holidays. It doesn't matter that neither your stepmom nor your brother asked to speak with you.
It doesn't matter that your nephew never called to thank you for his present.
Does any of this surprise you? No.
So, get over it.
This is what I'm telling myself. It's partially working, for what it's worth. I know the drill: one foot in front of the other. This is just another day. At least I didn't have to spend the day with my mom & stepdad, right? Even though that's depressing in its own way, due to what it represents, it does have its perks. No drama. No crazytimes. I mean, would I like to have a mother I could spend today with? Yes. Would I like to have a dad who acts like he loves me? Yes. But oh well. It could always be much worse. Would some of the traumatized refugees on Yemen's Beach of Death like life to cut them a break? Duh. My apartment looks pretty spiffy in comparison. Of course it's not a competition though, but my point remains. I didn't ask for any of this, it does suck, and I have a very legitimate right to feel sad; however, in response to the big bag of dicks life handed me, I made a choice--at least as far as my mom, stepdad, and sister were concerned--and it was the right choice. All I can do now is listen to what the Serenity Prayer says: accept what I can't change, change what I can, and do my best to learn the difference.
Doesn't mean it's easy though. Especially on days of cultural/familial significance.
I am glad I was able to see my uncle & them though. That was nice. I admit I felt a bit like a stray dog/pity guest--there were a few random "no one should have no place to go on Christmas. That's ridiculous. . .there's always an extra setting here. . .keep family close!" comments & then everyone was all noddy & I felt very on the spot--but I do think my uncle genuinely enjoyed having me there, so it's okay. As for how he's doing, re: the lung cancer, he was in the hospital for a few days again this week due to coughing & a low blood count (no one told me until today though), and honestly it just seems like things are slowly getting worse. My aunt mentioned something about how they'd cook the turkey "next year," and all I could think was, "he won't be around by then." Because really. I just don't think he will be. I'm trying not to think about it, because there's really just no point--we all know he's terminal & all you can do is live day by day in that case--but yeah. It's sad. All afternoon my cousin's baby (who is frakking ADORABLE, by the way. Happiest baby ever) was waving at him and clapping, and I just couldn't stop thinking about how he won't be around to watch him grow up. I hate it. It's a horrible thing to think, but he deserves to live so much more than either of my parents. He's so much nicer. It's really, really not fair.
. . .and I think that officially makes me an evil person. I probably shouldn't admit to thoughts like that on Christmas, huh? Oh well. I'm nothing if not honest. It's just, he smiles at me, you know? He smiles, and he watches Firefly, and BSG, and offers me chocolate, and he's not mean. He's never been mean. Not ever. I don't want him to die.
Okay, I think that's enough for today. On the bright side: I made it. Christmas is over, finally, and it wasn't even really that bad. It was actually decent & fairly nice-ish. Even though I'm sitting here with tears streaming down my face. Such is life. As Micah said to Bones, it's better to feel sad than dead, right? At least it means you care.
And on that note, I'll leave you all with a Vid of the Day (this time by PsychotiicSlayer). Let's let the cast of Bones kiss the boo-boos and make it all better, shall we? If nothing else, at least Christmas gives me an excuse to rewatch my favorite episode every year, "The Man in the Fallout Shelter". ("Woman in Limbo" just barely misses a tie & earns the silver).
