This Christmas has been one of the hardest yet.
I thought that they would get easier as time went on, but that’s not the case.
I tried so hard to get into the Christmas spirit. I know those around me love the season and I know my mood brings them all down.
I would do anything to be different but I’m not.
This year I bought my first gift in November. Got all fired up to make changes. To be more festive.
My husband nagged me to get the wrapping down early so it didn’t end up a last-minute task of resentment. And I agreed that it would be the best thing to do. But I put off buying gifts for so long. Just felt like I didn’t relate to those around me. To know what they would find joy from.
Past year’s gifts I have bought have been such disasters, and with how the world is struggling right now, everything all seemed frivolous. That money could be used for making a difference to my family.
I realise this is the last year that my kids will be home for the build-up. Next year they will both be off at University. Attending Christmas parties with new friends and working extra hours to fund their new lives. They might even choose that they want to see these new friends on Christmas day. Or if they do come home, they will need ferrying around to see as many friends and family as they can in the 2 weeks away from studies. And that’s all to be expected. They are getting older, flying the nest. I only want what’s best for them. So I carried in my head that this year I wanted to snuggle down and have them all to myself.
But the kids asked to visit family, so we made our plans around them when all I wanted to do was curl up in bed and hide. I adjusted and decided an evening home alone, just my husband and I would be just what we needed. A few hours to bond once the day was over. To get to know one another again, as it feels a huge wedge has been growing between us.
The closer the day got, the more I shrank into myself. The constant nag that I was letting everyone down. That I wasn’t enough. Wasnt the person they all wanted me to be.
When the day finally arrived I wanted nothing more than to be taken to a padded cell where I could just stay on my own and hide. But our evening plans of just us kept me going
Instead of hiding, I put on the new dress I’d made, climbed in the car and off we set.
Just pulling up to my mum’s house made me fight back tears. I would be sitting in that room full of strangers that I could see through the open curtains. Watching them all laughing and smiling. Knowing my presents would lower the mood of them all. Another day of painting on a face to make everyone think all was well in my world. And not recognising any of the faces around me as the people I used to know and be close to.
I don’t think I said more than 10 words in all, but no-one seemed to notice.
Gifts were passed out and I just wanted to throw open the door and run. A feeling of shame that I didn’t know enough about them all to get what they wanted. Or what they needed. I have lost touch with them all. At my own choice. But I know they all deserve better. And I carry that guilt.
I snuck my gifts into a bag so that no-one noticed that I wasn’t opening them. The anxiety just looking at the parcels gave me was more than I could deal with.
Soon as the food was over the silly games began. But the ball of food I had just eaten sat so high in my chest, that I convinced myself if I tried to join in, to laugh, I would instead be sick. So instead I did what I do best at Christmas. I curled into a little ball and fell asleep. Waking up when it was time to go home.
Another Christmas I had slept through. Another Christmas I felt I would be judged by for not joining in. Another Christmas where the desire for it all to be perfect just got too much.
My daughter was feeling ill and decided she wanted to come home instead of staying on. This is what I wanted, but instead, I felt resentment. I wanted that time alone with just my husband and I. So he sat on his computer or was watching programs that hold no interest to me. And the void between us opened up a little wider, with each second that ticked past.
I thought Christmases would get easier, but they just don’t.