I've always liked Christmas! ALWAYS! I'm 51! I have problems with my family, but I've always liked CHRISTMAS itself --- always bought gifts for mom/bro/sis-in-law/nephews, always gone over to whoever's house for the celebration. Never had any complaint whatsoever about the festivities, because I like the festivities and the color and the food and the gifts!
Last night, though, it all went bad very quickly.
Let me just say that I walked in my mother's door, heard a few words from her, dropped my gifts off in a chair, and then walked on out. Sad.
I think my mother and I are at cross purposes in our individual development. She, at 75, might be at the point where she feels that she can be the bitchy self that she's been throughout her adult life, multiplied because she's "old." I, on the other hand, at 51, am not in the mood to take the bullshit any more.
I write this at 9:45 in the morning, Central time, Christmas day. I've never in my life gone into Christmas after being up since midnight drinking, until now. I've always "respected The Day." Today, though: "The Day" is ridiculous. I'll drunkenly collapse on my bed around 11am Christmas day and then sleep 'til the evening, having seen no one. Not proud of that. But, nonetheless, proud of having avoided bullshit.
The key, of course, is to have your own person to be with, your own family. I don't have that. There's no Christmas or New Year's Resolution for that. What I do know now is: I don't have to put up with the current situation. I'm strong enough to say "fuck it," although that gives me no great pleasure.
This is the first Christmas that I've ever not looked forward to waking up to/on. Ever. In all the years that I can remember. What a shitty 76-degree Christmas.