Friday, December 23, 2011

Christian hating Christmas

Okay so this is possibly the most blasphemous I’ve ever been. Besides that one time I laughed at my mother saying that I ate Jesus. She doesn’t really get the symbolism in the sacrament. Anyways…

Christmas. I hate it. I’ve tried to like it. Claimed I’ve just been in a bad mood but no, I hate it.

It’s not because I think it’s a commercialistic something or other put on by Toys R’ Us.

It’s not because I don’t believe in Christ. I do. And I’m very thankful that He gave His life for me. But His birthday is a bitter reminder of everything I’ve lost.

Here’s some background on me. I have a flippin crazy family. You think your family is bad, I got money that says the Potter’s can take them. And we all pretty much had a love hate relationship. We all loved each other and had one another’s backs but it wasn’t surprising for someone to take a swing at someone and it was guaranteed that someone would pass out drunk.

See in my family there was my great-grandma Sarah who had her five children who all had children and then they went and had children so there was a few of us. And the only time I remember us all sucking it up and getting along was for holidays. Christmas, Halloween, Jamboree. We would try to get along and I think it was just for my Grandma Sarah’s sake.

Now I was raised by a few people. My grandma Sandra and grandpa Paul mostly in my childhood and my grandma Sarah through my teen years and my mom would jump in every once in a while.

So what were you supposed to gather from that.

I once had a big family that had holiday traditions

I was raised by four main people mentioned above.

When I was a junior my life kinda fell apart. Okay it split down the freaking middle and most of the time I feel like I’m still trying to find my ground. And a lot of people don’t know how messed up everything that happened in my family made me… But here it is.

My grandma Sandra was murdered. Or she committed suicide. Thing is no one really knows what happened. Point is she’s dead and my grandpa is in prison for it. There goes two people that I loved.

My brother (up until last May) hadn’t been sober since her death and my mother relapsed also. Down for two more. At this point I was living with my grandma Sarah who I loved very much. My time with her was the most normal and happy I can remember. We fought. Bickered. I was a bitchy teenager and she was a grumpy confused elder. But we would also watch the news together. Go to Mario’s and share a sandwich. Split a coke. Milkshakes at the lake. Drives to Winco. She was my life during my teen years because not only was she taking care of me, I was taking care of her. She has Alzheimer’s. She lives in a home about an hour away from where I grew up. She had a stroke the first week of my senior year and I had to go live with my mom. After that didn’t work out I went and stayed with a friend for my senior year.

Point: I thought I lost everyone I loved in a sixth month period.

And I’m freaking bitter about it. I don’t like holidays because they remind me I’m alone.

But the thing is I know I’m not. It’s just easier to pretend I don’t have family back home because really what do I have? A woman who can’t remember my name? A mother who has chosen all of her boyfriends over me (sorry mom but it’s true)?

I got aunts and uncles and cousins who all have their families. Friends in the same situation. It doesn’t matter where I go cause I will constantly feel like I’m imposing because it’s not my grandma’s house, the night before Christmas, with all of us there pretending to be elves and Santa, passing presents and eating snacks that we would have for every family gathering. None of it will ever be my family because my family will never be whole again…

Okay I’ve ranted because well this time of year makes me really depressed.

But there is hope. This year I plan on visiting the elderly on Christmas day. When my roommate gets home we’ll make a Christmas dinner together like we did last year. I’ll start my own traditions while incorporating some of what my family left me.

Song Of The Week!!!

Glee- Do They Know It's Christmas

Well I don't like Christmas, but this is still a good song. And the episode really showed a true meaning of Christmas, selfless-ness.
Love you Guys!! Merry Christmas

1 comment:

  1. My Mom's mom died when she was three years old.

    Her father was a gambler and a drunk and reamrried right away so, as my Mom tells it, he would have someone to take care of her.

    The woman my grandfather married loved my Mom like she was her own but was mentally ill and committed suicide when my Mom was about 10 years old.

    My grandfather put my Mom in an orphanage after his second wife died.

    Despite all this my Mom grew up to be a caring, empathetic and kind person.

    Or maybe it was because of all she went through.

    All I know is that I think my Mom was lucky to have that woman in her life.

    Because that woman gave her the love she needed to overcome all her other obstacles and taught my mother by example how to treat others.

    That's what family does.