I must have broken a mirror, whilst standing under a ladder, holding an open umbrella in my living room, while a horde of angry black cats crossed my path. That must be what happened and I just don't remember it because I was drunk. (I don't drink) But, clearly that must have been the case.
I am so over Christmas. Hell, I am over this year. This last month was horrible. So horrible in fact, that I have to sit and laugh at it because if I were to sit and cry about I am not sure I would ever stop.
Lots of people do a count down till Christmas. This year we had one of our own but it wasn't the painstakingly hand sewn red felt calendar with the happy motifs of Santa Claus or shimmering glittery snowmen with the candy cane counter. Ours was more of a countdown on moldy torn fabric warily clinging to the nail, praying to God that it didn't blow away in the shit storm that we are weathering.
Before Thanksgiving my husband got hurt at work. He chipped his hip bone and hurt his back. He was in pain but he is a hard worker and so he went to work everyday despite numbness in his back and feet.
The day before Thanksgiving, my grandma became very ill and had to be hospitalized for eighteen days. She almost died on us.
Two weeks before Christmas my Christmas tree (the one thing that made me still feel hopeful for Christmas cheer) dried up. Most people have Christmas trees that sparkle. Mine molted. Most are full and fluffy, mine was crispy and stabby.
Six days before Christmas my husband was laid off. "Merry Christmas to you and by the way, we don't need you anymore....have fun with trying to pay bills and buy Christmas gifts for your kids..."
A few days later, my oldest cat became extremely ill. We did everything we could including taking him to the vet to get shots and medicine but his kidneys had stopped functioning. He had lost six lbs in two weeks.
Two days before Christmas, he had to be put to sleep....He was in pain and was going to die a painful death within the next few days and the vet told us the humane thing to do would be to end his suffering rather than let him suffer.
The day before Christmas eve instead of having happy thoughts of Christmas gifts and sugar plumb fairy dreams, my kids stood outside in the rain as we buried beloved Geves. (We didn't ask them to stay out there with us. They both just walked outside while we buried him. I was very proud of what little men they are becoming.) Instead of cheer my eight year old tried to come to grips with the truth that no, cats do not actually have nine lives. I had to explain to him in detail on Christmas Eve, that even if he did throw a coin into a water fountain and wish for Geves to come back, it wouldn't work because life doesn't really work that way.
Then we had a reprieve and went to my mother's house which was nice. We had a good time full of family and love. We didn't really want to come back home to a house without Geves though. To have to come back to our home and pretend we don't feel the glaringly obvious absence of one of our buddies. The other three cats are grieving just as much as we are. Now, our house is just a big grief sandwich filled with sadness and uncertainty. He used to sleep with me. I can't sleep in my bed because it makes me too sad to not feel him at my feet. My other cats won't go upstairs anymore, so I am now sleeping in the living room.
Christmas morning, my kids opened their gifts and played. A quiet relief of them forgetting for a second that all is not right with the world right now for us. I was thankful for that.
Santa had brought them "stickies" in their stockings. Those little oddly shaped creatures that are sticky to the touch so you can throw them on the wall and watch them "walk" down the wall. One of my kids had flung one on the ceiling in the dining room. It was so sticky it didn't fall down even after hanging there for two hours. When my husband stood on a chair to get it down, it ended up pulling off a plate sized portion of the plaster off of the ceiling.
I laughed and laughed and laughed. Ridiculous. This month has been so bad it has been utterly ridiculous. I asked them not throw them on the ceiling anymore lest my whole damn house start to fall in around our heads when we pull them off.
I was laughing but then I was sick to stomach. So sick of Christmas and dead trees, and sickness, and pain, and loss, and of having an unsure future. I looked at all of the decorations I had lovingly hung and it made me feel even more disgusted. I looked at my husband. I looked at my kids happily playing in the other room and something inside me snapped. I started tearing down the decorations. I couldn't remove them fast enough. It was almost as if they were now, for me tainted somehow. I put away the stockings and dismantled my dried husk of a tree. I threw it off of the porch to let it stagnate in the yard until the trash man comes. I removed the what now seemed to be a sick joke of festive decorations and boxed them in their bubble wrap and tape. I swept the floor of the pine needles like I was cleaning out the negative emotions in my head. Each sweep of the broom was sweeping away the tears and sadness that had become my constant companion these last few days. I was purging this bad Christmas away from my home, my eye view, and hopefully, my recollection. I packed up Christmas and forbid myself to even think about it again until next year, where hopefully it will not be as much of a disaster as it was this year. I left my kid's tree up. I didn't take away their decorations and joy because I am not heartless. I just couldn't stomach one more second of looking at the red a green and gold balls dangling in the light happily or the wreaths proclaiming joy and peace. I couldn't swallow one more cheerful Christmas carol or digest one more sniff of a cinnamon candle. I couldn't tolerate one more paper angel or blinking Christmas tree light. I wanted to erase the unfulfilled Christmas feelings that now felt like lies. I wanted vomit Christmas back up like it was something rotten I had eaten as a midnight snack. It left a bitter bile taste in my mouth. So much wrong in such a short span while the world is happy and telling you that you should be as well, activated my gag reflex. I couldn't take it.
I couldn't even have the lights on the tree plugged in because the tree would catch fire and yet deep down I dreamed of setting the damn thing on fire in my yard myself as a protest. I protest this Christmas and all of the suffering and fuckery that it entailed this year. It was a horrid, horrid year and I wish I could erase it from my memory.
And if things weren't bad enough to ramp my OCD into overdrive, I just went to urgent care for pain in my tailbone and was told that I have a congenital dimple there. When I told the doctor there is Spina Bifida in my family he was concerned that I may have it as well. Now, I have to have an ultrasound done on my spine and maybe a cat scan as well....So, I am more than just a tad bit upset. Fuck this year, seriously.
As always, I am remaining positive. (Ha ha ha.) I should say I am trying my damnedest to remain positive even though everything around me seems to be falling apart. I am trying to remain hopeful and thankful and I am praying. Like I always do. I know that everything will work out eventually, it just has been so hard. So stressful. So devastating. I feel numb. I feel angry. I feel sad. I feel....hollow. Empty. Gutted.
Luckily, I am blessed with a wonderful supportive family and friends and they are helping us deal with all of this...crap. I can't help but think of others going through this and not having that support. It really upsets me. No one in this country, let alone this world, should work so hard only to be one or two paychecks away from losing everything they have struggled for. But that is my opinion and this is reality. I have decide reality blows.
Here's hoping your Christmas was better than mine and that next year is a better and happier year for all of us. Because I have always loved Christmas....just not this one. Not this way and not this time.
Hopefully things will be looking up soon and my next post will be less depressing. You can bet that at 12:00 a.m. on Jan 1st there will be cheers and hooting and hollering like there always is. Only this time the loudest will probably be coming from my house. Screw this crapified year and all of it's heart break. Come on 2015 don't fail me now! We could really use a break here...and maybe even some good news as well.