Ahem. By bullies, I mean family. I know this makes me the Bad Guy. Ahhhh, the holiday season. If my life were a movie, there would be a series of comical mishaps that would end with everyone hugging, realizing that life on this planet is short. I already know how it will end, though, and it won't be Hollywood-style. It will be awkward and uncomfortable, full of resentment.
The usual.
I love the idea that the holiday season can make families come together and reconnect, but I have yet to see that. What I see is manipulation. My little family is supposed to bend at the will of others to make the tug-of-war favor one side over the other. I can't do it. I want to spend Christmas Eve with my husband's grandparents, who are in their mid-eighties and might not have a lot of Christmas Eves left.
Losing Sheldon this year was a slap in the face by Mortality and it still stings.
My choosing this arrangement means that I am slighting people who share my last name - people who will see me the
very next day. AND I didn't know they
weren't going to this particular event when I agreed to attend. I've come to hate the holidays when I used to be so excited. I have to fake it so that my daughter can have a nice season and that is so depressing. I would love it if everyone could get past the crappy issues and have a nice night, but I can't even bring myself to do it, so I can't expect it of others.
Yesterday I actually tried to convince my husband that we should move to Costa Rica before next Christmas. He said no.
Sigh.
