I watched a movie earlier and I cried. What I watched isn't important. The fact that I cried is. Why did I cry?
Because it is Christmas. Because my friend Carol died 2 years ago on December 1 and isn't here when I need her. Because of the sad childhood memories that come up for me at Christmas. Because it was Pearl Harbor Day a few days ago. Because I got mad at my husband earlier tonight. Because my daughter and grandchildren live thousands of miles away in Idaho. Because my mom died Nov. 21, 1999. Because my friend Kathy was murdered the day after Christmas in 1992.
I have been reading other blogs lately who say that happiness is a decision and that suffering is optional. The wounded, hurting parts of me say _ _ _ _ _ _ _. Well, you really don't want to know what they say about happiness being a decision. I was told as a child that ladies don't talk like that.
I wanted to write some kind of article for Sunday but really didn't know what I wanted to say. I have been so tied up in emotions for the past week, emotions that I have not wanted to feel. These are emotions that come up for me every year around Christmas. Only in the past few years have I allowed myself to cry when the need grows strong in me.
What am I crying for? Christmas is a time for family. It is the time of year that I miss mine the most. Even when you grow up in an abusive home, you miss family. Often you miss what you never had---a happy home. I miss the healthy relationships that should have been between my father, mother, sister brother and me. I miss the happy Christmases that didn't happen because of the incest and the alcohol. My dad and grandfather were verbally violent alcoholics. The threat of physical violence was also there. Holidays always seemed worse.
I can hear voices saying for me to just let go of it. This happened 30-50 years ago. No matter how much forgiveness that I have done, the feelings still come up at Christmas. I don't know how to make them stop other than to feel them. That is the difficult part. Will they ever stop coming up? I hope so. I don't know if it will ever happen. It isn't as simple as telling myself that I am going to be happy this Christmas. Some Christmases are better than others.
Some of my tears have been for my friend Carol not being here. She was one of my best friends. We had known each other for about ten years. She died of a heart attack just after midnight on the morning of December 1 two years ago. They say that anniversary's of someone's death is when you miss them most. She was in my thoughts last week but the actual day passed without me recognising that it was December 1. Carol was a good listener and counselor and could help me work through my feelings to find the source of the tears, fears or anger. I am having to do that by myself this year. Earlier tonight when I was crying, I wanted to run to someone to have a shoulder to cry on when I got angry at my husband. I realized that there was no one that I could run to. In the past, I would call Carol and she would point out that Daniel wasn't being insensitive on purpose. She would point out that he probably wasn't even the person that I was angry with and most of the time she was right. I don't like having to figure out all of that by myself. As you can tell, I am not being my usual rational self.
Guess what? Feelings aren't rational. Someone earlier in the week mentioned that I might be feeling Christmas blues. I know that more suicides happen this time of year than any other time. I even thought about naming the article Christmas Blues. Suicide has never been an option for me. Some part of me says, "I won't let the bastards win." By bastards she means the ones who abused her/me. There is a defiant person inside of me who gives me the strength to never give up.
The cheerful, optimistic part of me who often wishes people a glorious day isn't in residence right now. I know she will be again, just not right now.