Why I've come to HATE the Holidays

Yes, I've said it. I despise the holidays...
And not because I don't believe in them, or the idea of family, down time, or mass consumerism. But because its come to mean something different to me.

There used to be a time when I loved the holidays. Even though we lived in the shelter, in some one else's home, or in our car we were together and a family. And that was enough for me.

But since I've had my daughter or rather since she's came into my life... its a bit more complicated.

Lets go over how this came to be...

About 3 years back, our first Christmas out of the shelter was uneventful. It was depressing and stressful for whatever reason. I can't really recall that Christmas clearly. I felt tides changing, but I couldn't pinpoint what was changing.

Next Christmas I was pregnant. Although I was not yet aware. I was in the first few months that is characterized as "you're-losing-your-fucking-mind" trimester. I spent that day, at someone I did not knows house, followed by partying all night in a club. I was fucking loony. And that my first taste of "I hate Christmas".

Then comes Olivia, and that Christmas managed to get fucked up because I spent it in a mental hospital. Just days prior as I wallowed in postpartum depression and undiagnosed bipolar disorder the world flipped upside down, and I chased my infidelity with a slit wrist. Once again, loony... are you sensing a pattern here? Because I am.

Then, finally this Christmas. Familial pressures everywhere, shelter lifestyle, no money, stress and depression. I smelt a breakdown coming along. Until Christmas eve comes and too many shots of tequila makes him into a monster. I don't recall doing anything, and neither does he. I do recall the sting that followed a swift slap to the face. The air rushing out of my lungs as my windpipes were constricting. Nothing I did could make it stop, and I myself couldn't avoid/stop it. This time I wasn't the loony one.

I had never been a victim. Never considered myself one, and Im still unsure if I am. I just know it hurt. The angry words followed by the vindictive hands. I've never felt so weak. I cried, until I couldn't. I yelled until I was too scared to do anything but just stand there. And at some point in time even that angered him.

He has NEVER been like this before. What happened??!!?? We'll never know.

He didn't stop until we gained the interest of the dutiful security guards. I was paralyzed so I nodded everything was fine, and I let him guide me into the shower once they left. The rest of my night was plagued by nightmares and his apologies. He swore to never do it again. But he's never done it before. He doesn't even know how he got to that point in the first place.

So how can one control the unknown?? I'll never know...

So this is why I despise the holidays. Its been bringing out the worst on me. Its rained the shittiest parade and Im left to pick up the fragmented streamers of my life. Every single fucking time.

And I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I don't know what to do. Im stuck. Frozen. In that frame of mind.

My hope is that my soul will heal as my wounds will. And I can pack my pessimism away until next time.

Until next time.