Broken me oh broken me!

The holidays. The loneliest only time of the year. It’s that time of year that is the very white elephant that I would like to scuffle, taze, and shoot right out of my undecorated room. I’m not anti-religious. I am devoutly Catholic. I’m also not anti-animal, or anti-elephant for that matter. But it’s all of this in-your-face with the Santa hat thing that goes on in our ultra-consumeristic society. Buy me! The toy says. Buy me now or forget me tomorrow! Says the latest and greatest electronic gadget. That’s all good and fine, and yes I will take them all, but it’s not going to help. Not this year. I refuse to get filled-up with all the faux meanings of Christmas. No thank you.

Last year I was surrounded by family – my mother, my step-family, my boyfriend, my children – and half of that is gone. The two that held up the adult-end of the bargain; my mom and boyfriend – are absent. My mother because she had to go and pass away, and my boyfriend, because I realized it wasn’t working and made him go away. I didn’t shoot him either by the way. It’s so easy to get wrapped up in self-pity at this time of year. I’m completely tangled! I don’t want to put up the tree on black Friday as I’ve done every year of my adult life. I don’t want lights, decorations, wreaths, ribbons, garland…NO thank you!

But I must chug along, and I know this, because I have two boys that just expect that of mommy. Fake it until I make it? Yes. The old philosophy comes in to play again. When all else fails, and the show must go on, faking it will be the solution. My plan of action is to put up the tree as I promise myself to smile. It’s to put up the village, while imagining I am one of those happy village people (without singing YMCA). I’m going to buy presents and dream of a white Christmas, and lots of deep sleeps where dreams of lost loved ones do not hinder or interfere with good old fashion rest.

I am going to do it all because it’s what ‘they’ expect. And what ‘they’ say counts.

One day, they may too have to experience a bliss-less Christmas, and may also have to fake it. But they will now how, and if they forget, I will be right there to remind them. If they reach outside of themselves when self-pity moves in and takes up residence in their hearts, they are bound to find joy in the legacy of lost love.After-all, if it happens once, it’s bound to happen again. And if you learn from the loss, the victory will be that much sweeter.

So let us dress our sorrows in Santa hats, place the jingle bells on our doubts, and remember that joy isn’t a gift we buy but a gift we give to ourselves because we choose to do so.Image



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