Christmas is over. How was it? Good. Fine. Okay. Holidays truly aren’t that great. I find myself with huge expectations and dreams which simply turn into moments of letdowns and the realizations all expectations were unrealistic. So I expected nothing. Absolutely, positively nothing. Your dreams don’t get shattered if they don’t exist.
The grandbaby had an amazing Christmas which is all that matters. I agreed to invite my parents over at that last minute Christmas Eve. The in-laws declined coming at the last minute also which was great. Less hassle. Less fake perfectionism. The kids and grandbaby opened their gifts from my family. Then I silently wished they’d leave. Until my mom turned into her typical gossiping self. She’s just rude and has to talk about how great she is – I cut her off and said she should really mind her own business. (She lives like a f’ing hoarder but was telling my husband about someone else’s dirty clothes she washed for them. For real.) She rolls her eyes and continues and I again said hey, enough. I’m telling your husband. Well, now your not. You’re being rude and it’s time for you to leave. This. This is why I don’t invite you. I guess my daughter followed her upstairs and when my mom started in on something else she jumped in and said this is why we don’t tell you private stuff. My mom insisted people did. Daughter says – Thats why you only just found out I was 22 weeks pregnant while at the grocery store? And – Boom – Parents left.
I then changed the board I had our menu written on for Christmas to “Leftovers” and declared we had too much food left, too full of a fridge and I mentally couldn’t host another day. We opened presents on Christmas Day with the kids and baby. Ate breakfast and then I slept for the whole afternoon. It was a fabulous choice. Fabulous.
Don’t get me wrong – I do love gossip. Most people like to be in the know on private stuff. But I also know it isn’t right. I attempt to work on this on myself daily. If I talk about someone I remind myself to only say what I’d say to their face. But there is clearly a time and a place for talking. There’s also a clear line on what should never be talked about IMO. This persons dirty laundry didn’t need a discussion. Especially in that setting. There is no reason to shame someone who doesn’t know how to do their laundry correctly.
What really upset me is the fact it’s the pot calling the kettle black. Even worse. At least that person just needed to learn not to over stuff the washer and to use more soap/products. My mom. She knows how to clean. Yet she doesn’t. She doesn’t have time. She doesn’t throw things away. Her house is cluttered. So cluttered. You can write your name in the dust. The reason she can’t host any holidays or event is her house is far too disgusting. It’s embarrassing. You can’t have people there. So she simply shouldn’t talk.
I have no New Years Resolution. I didn’t have one last year either. They never come true. They never happen. But I do need to get healthy. Somehow. I know I’d feel better. Physically and mentally. If I’d just work on me. It’s just so hard. I struggle to eat healthy because I honestly don’t want to take the time to eat so when I do it’s shit food. I don’t even eat that much or often. Yet, I know it’s the unhealthy food and beer I’m cramming into my body. So, I do know what I need to do. It’s just a matter of doing.
This years been rough. I keep hoping next year will be better. Yet, I find myself doubting it will be. How could it be? Nothing is really changing but the date. Everything. Everyone. It all remains the same. Why do we assume it’ll all be different when the year changes? Why can’t it be different today? Tomorrow? Last week? Last month?
2021 marks so many losses. So much heartache. My friend lost her husband in January of a sudden heartache at a young age. Next, I sat with my friend and held her beautiful baby boy born sleeping in May until she said good bye and let him go. A perfect viable baby who was just weeks from delivery. Two weeks later my beautiful friend was murdered by her fiancé. A young girl in our community lost her life to drinking and driving – ironically I’d sat in and helped teach her MIP class this year, before her death. Then my friend lost her dad. Followed by my friend passing from covid and leaving behind so many loved ones. It’s really been a shit year when it comes to death. Super shit. I’ve read the obituaries daily and so many other people I liked over the years also lost their lives to accidents, cancer, covid, natural causes. You just can’t escape it this year. Really, why couldn’t it have gotten better a year ago?
We are all waiting for a better year when I simply want a better today. A better tomorrow. I want to feel less sad. I want to feel less tired. I want to feel alive inside of my soul. Instead of that blah, quiet, helpless feeling that simply never goes away. The feeling that if I could just sit in silence for eternity I’d be happy. I’d feel happy. I’d at least be content. Silent. Alone. That’s it.
Instead I’ll continue on with “Fake it until you make it”. Because someday all of the above won’t feel so raw. Someday. It’ll always hurt but the raw wound will heal. It’ll be a scab. And I’ll learn to live with the pains of that scab.