Christmas blues

 

I think if I calculated the ratio of Christmases that have been with and without melancholy, I'd probably trend towards the blue side. I mean I do trend that way on the regular don't I?

Kind of... I am a melancholy sort of cheesy. 

I use to write in my journals about all the things that made me sad on Christmas. The fear of expectations and disappointment, my divided family, the fact that I would never be able to tell people how much they meant to me, the realization that I was grateful and yet, cynical all the same? 

We used to go to my Grandpa's and sit in that cold old church. Always feeling out of place, even in the spiritual spaces. Surrounded by family and not fitting in. Thinking of all the shameful unforgivable things I'd done. Reveling just a bit in the glorious freedom of humanity.

Christian Christmas to me isn't a joyful holiday. It's bittersweet. The birth of G-d in sacrificial form? G-d breaking the covenant because we couldn't live up to it?  G-d trying to show us a new way, knowing full well how many of us are doomed to a life of constant sin... I dunno. I am no longer that kind of christian...

The festivities? the capitalist holiday?  I hate shopping for gifts. It's all anxiety producing. I'd rather buy people things when I see them, and my family is so wealthy that we don't have any needs. The gift of a quality time, an activity, that would make more sense, but in quarantine? 

I wanted to forget the whole thing this year.  At work we did "secret snowman" which is funny because my coworkers are constantly using the phrase "come to Jesus moment" seemingly without any issue... (every time I kind of cringe at the lack of critical reflection, but half of them also use the word "bitch" without thinking too, or maybe as a badge of honor?) Anyway. It worked out, and there were some moments of fun, but mostly it was anxiety provoking. I don't know how to respond when someone gives me a gift, nor do I know how to be confident in giving a gift. I'd rather buy something and slide it into your dresser or into the cupboards, or place it on the bookshelf or the table and just let it be part of the surroundings. 

But it's Christmas Eve, and I have no plans and no one to see. And if I am honest, its kind of painful, like a scratch, a paper cut on the heart. It's not that anyone else is doing anything. My parents are leaving town. I am cat sitting. My friends are burned out  and isolating (like me) or have families. My sibs are with friends or family. I don't feel like reaching out. I don't feel like caretaking. I was thinking about my Dad who lost his mother on Christmas Eve 30-31 years ago?  I am sure he has a momentary ache, a thought or two. I have no desire to call him and ask. Who is holding my heart?

Im gonna watch the grinch, and maybe my heart won't be too small. Thats my plan for the evening. 

I was rereading old messages last night. I tried to give up porn for a few weeks... bad time to do so. But I was reading old messages and realized how much more some people have loved me than M did. And how weird that is. Like, I was ready to spend my life with this person who didn't even like me, but not with these people who genuinely care about who I am, who know me, and want good for me? WTF

How did I deceive myself sooooo bad? I mean I know I am desperate, I am super fucking desperate, but why am I so hooked on this lady? she is an idol...  

And yet... I loved who I got to be. Loved having a partner. Loved thinking of a future that could be real, and less hiding. But you don't create that future by practicing deception. Good lesson for the future Mike. Don't fake it till you make it. Just make it.