The holidays

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For as long as I can remember, I hate the holidays, they’re a stress filled time where sanity always feels too far away to reach. Maybe my family isn’t normal, well not maybe, they aren’t normal, nor am I, but we’ve never had the picture perfect Christmas they show on tv where everyone loves everyone and sings Christmas carols around the fire. We’re more likely to end up in the emergency room because someone got pissed and decided to stab someone else, but really that’s when the holidays include the extended family. When it’s just our family, mom, dad and my brother, things are generally calm. Yet, I still hate the holidays. I’m not poor but… I really can’t afford to get people anything that I want to get them, or anything that’d really matter in the long run. Plus no one wants anything but gift cards anyway, which is the equivalent of exchanging cash. So why not just keep the money, get yourself something, and then tell everyone about it? seems more reasonable. Further, at best, my family tolerates me; they don’t get me, I’m an annoyance, I always have been, always will be. At least, that’s how I feel. There’s like something that just makes me different from the 3 of them, I don’t know what it is, but it’s always been there. Always. And whether they admit they feel it or not, I feel it.

Every other Christmas or so, we do it at my house, the rest we do at my brothers apartment this year, is not my year. So we, who both work the day before and the day after Christmas, have to load up Christmas morning, two dogs, presents, etc. drive an hour… spend Christmas with my family, all of which either are retired or off work for 2 weeks. I feel it makes very little sense and also buts a lot of undue stress on us, but no one cares or cares to listen, because things go one person’s way, my moms. Or my brothers…. because he’s not far behind her. So I am most definitely not looking forward to this trip, two dogs, hour car ride, 2nd story apartment, two dogs who have to go downstairs every time they need out… yeah seems fun right? Not. At. All. But I do it, because my dads getting older and we may not have that many more Christmases, blah blah blah. Yes I sound like a bitchy spoiled brat, but you know what? That’s ok, because a) no one is ever going to read this, and b) no one gives a shit what I think.

What I REALLY want for Christmas is: a day off. A real day off, where I don’t have to get up, feed dogs, go to work, go to school, clean the house, pick up random articles of clothing from around the house, take out the trash, cook dinner… nothing, if I don’t want to. And I want the choice to stay home, and not stress, and not run around spending money I don’t have to exchange little plastic cards with some monetary value to them with other adults who should know by now Christmas is supposed to be a whole hell of a lot more than opening presents. But the chances of me getting this are slim to none. Even if it’s freezing rain  treacherous roads I will get guilt-ed into driving my happy ass out there anyways. I DO want to see my family, I love my parents both very much, I love my brother also but we butt heads and when we butt heads and I don’t back down.. yeah it’s not pretty. Oh and its my fault when things aren’t pretty because I didn’t back down.

Trust me there’s a whole lot of family dynamics that I do not want to get into at the moment. We’ll save them for another time, maybe a time when I can make some sense of them, if that ever happens. Anyway, I’m off to fight 7-12 inches of snow, on top of rain ice, all weekend to do my Christmas shopping (and my moms since she’s been sending me texts telling me I need to go places for her and buy things) since it’s forced upon me every year. Wish me luck… better yet… wish the people I’m out shopping with luck, at any moment I may finally lose it.   



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