Festivus for the restivus

I love Christmas in parts. I love the lights, I love making snow angels and walking in the snow while staring at the lights. I love walking around Crocker park drinking my mocha latte and feeling the cold flakes hit my warm cheeks.

In its entirty, however, I hate the holidays. I hate the rush to get all of your shopping done because I never have time. I hate the stress that lingers in the air. I am stressed out enough without feeling the vibe from other people surround me. I think the part of Christmas that I hate the most is the sadness that I try to smile through every year. This comes directly from my mother.

She is still not speaking to me, which for this length of time, has been odd, but she typically exhibits this behavior towards me at every holiday. I don't want to participate in a holiday with her because of the way she acts. What do you buy for someone who is miserable. They don't bottle happiness. Then when you do get them something that you think they'll really like, they don't appreciate it. You can never please her. I can't please her with the way I live my life, I don't think a $50 Christmas gift is going to do the trick either.

Christmas Eve is when the awkwardness begins. It has been the same every year, except last year, because the entire family was sick and we actually couldn't do Christmas. I was the only one not sick because I didn't live at home. But it is on the evening that my mother sits and complains about how unsuccessful and screwed up all three of her children are, in an effort to fluff off some responsibility and take the focus off of how miserable she has actually become as a human being. My dad chimes in every once an a while to defend his children and my uncle often times turns the table on her crazy unrealistic expectations of her adult timeline. My sister and her boyfriend sit in on the adult conversations and sip their wine to feel more adult and intune with their kind. My sister is trying to force him off on the family because she is certain that he is going to propose soon. My brother awkwardly avoids most contact and conversations about his personal life as much as possible as well. He stays quiet, doesn't offer up an opinion and in this way he is smart about his tactic because somehow every year he manages to stay out of the line of fire.

Typically I stay with my cousins who are around my age, my other cousin who drinks like a fish and thus draws all attention to how he can open multiple beer cans at the same time, and chug them (what can I say we are a talented family), and then if I hear my mother speaking about me, I will make an attempt to defend myself and then usually I leave and meet up with people whom of which actually want to spend time with me on Christmas.

I haven't yet decided if I want to torture myself yet this year. I may not participate in Christmas. My mother wouldn't care either way. She would not understand that my lack of participation is due to her manipulation of the mind and making me feel horrible about myself. I'll keep you updated on my decision as Christmas nears.