Christmas (AKA holidays)

Did you ever see the faces

Of the children, they get so excited.

Waking up on Christmas morning

Hours before the winter sun's ignited.

They believe in dreams and all they mean,

Including Heaven's generosity.

Peeping 'round the door to see what

Parcels are for free in curiosity.

CHRISTMAS -- by Pete Townshend

I hate the holidays.

I have for many, many years. I can't even remember when was the last time I wasn't depressed through November and December. I remember as a child - well no, I don't have many happy memories of my childhood. But, I have been told I loved Christmas and Thanksgiving as a kid. Now? My memories revolve around sadness. Maybe as a kid you never really know how bad you feel until you grow up and realize you've been sad all your life. I don't know. The only thing I do know is I have only a scant few happy memories of the holidays and so - here I am - depressed again - just wishing the next month would fly by unnoticed by me.

This song I quoted above has a very strange feeling to it - almost surreal, for me anyway. There's Tommy on Christmas morning with all the happy children around him, and yet he feels nothing, sees nothing and says nothing. That was me. I was the invisible child. My sister got all the attention - she demanded it. I just didn't have the strength to stand up for what I needed - I still don't in a lot of ways.

Family holiday gatherings were my worst nightmare. I was a fat kid (I'm still fat, but one thing at a time here). I chose food for comfort. I got none from anyone else. My parents are very cold people. It's only now as they are getting closer to death that they want the comfort of a hug from me. I have none to give, that well dried up years ago. I sometimes feel badly that I feel such distance from my parents but, I just had to survive.

Back to family gatherings. I hated them. I was the fat kid, and my weight was the topic of discussion and ridicule at all family gatherings. My parents were grilled, "When are you going to do something about *her* weight?" I was made fun of by my cousins. I couldn't even enjoy my meal. Every single bite was watched and scrutinized. I was usually in tears by the time we left.

I remember one particular Thanksgiving at our home. The kids table was in a different room. My cousins picked on me viciously until I cried. I couldn't eat my meal and my father came in to pick up the plates. I remember vividly my father seeing my plate with food still on it grinned from ear to ear and said to me with all the pride he could summon up, "I'm so proud of you honey, you didn't finish this plate of food!" Then I heard him go into the kitchen where the rest of the grown ups were and told everyone that I had not finished my plate. I was humiliated, and to this day that incident is only one of two times my father ever told me he was proud of me. I know there is one more - but I don't remember what it was about.

We were also very poor when I was a child. We never had much for Christmas and one year my mother decided putting coal in our stockings was really funny. Also, one Christmas my sister tried to kill me by putting a pillow over my head and trying to smother me. She almost did too - but she is a subject for her own blog entry.

I hate the holidays. I just wish..................I don't know what I wish, except for peace, for me.