christmases are really hard

i don’t think i’ve had a proper christmas since the year i stood in front of my mother, pleading with her that she get up off her chair and help me set up the christmas tree on christmas eve.

she never did.

she wouldn’t even look at me, asking if it was so wrong of her to want her children with her for christmas, like i wasn’t even there.

my brother had declined to come home, and somehow, my being home instead wasn’t good enough or even considered any sort of reason for festivities and yuletide fun at all.

she didn’t budge and my dad and i, dejected but trudging along because what else could we do?, made the best of it, just the two of us, putting up the tree and making dinner.

fast forward a few years and my parents are now divorced and i’m not a teenager begging for my mother to love me anymore, but seeing happy families with their perfect trees and their trauma-free yule time celebrations is just… really bittersweet.

i know it’s not the tree itself that’s important. the tree is inconsequential. nor is the fact that i don’t have any ornaments.

i don’t even know if i want a christmas tree and i’m actually feeling quite stupid for feeling so upset over such a dumb thing, but i told myself a while back that i would learn to sit and be comfortable with being uncomfortable.

i guess this is a part of that.

anyway, christmases may be hard, but i do try to remember that there are good things as well as bad and that bad things don’t last forever, even if the hurts tend to.

maybe tomorrow i’ll go out and pick out a tree and decorate it as ridiculously as i can with what i have on hand.

wouldn’t that be fun?

xx

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