Free Range Human

Is It Over Yet?

Xmas is a tough time for me. Actually, all holidays are. I am not invested in them any longer. I only participate to go along with my family. Many of the traditions I enjoyed as I child I cannot stand as an adult. Being surrounded by meat and overdoing everything on Thanksgiving. Being assaulted by ads and pressure to shop, to equally exchange gifts and to endure social occasions at Xmas.

I prefer to be alone in the monastery that is home. I don’t need much or want things. I don’t handle having to juggle multiple conversations, two televisions and all of the distraction well. My partner can’t handle the smoke in the air. Neither can I, really. We’re sick for hours to days after breathing the air. My brother and his wife are great about taking their cigarettes outside. Anything we bring home reeks of the odor and any food is inedible from the taste of ash.

Then there are the many ways I have let my family down. I refuse to talk to my sociopath father, something that finally seems to not be a topic any longer, to my relief. This year it was how I am a disappointment to my mother, how she wishes she could return to 1980 and knock some sense into me.

I assume she means that I have my own mind and disagree with her rantings. I have no idea why the date would be relevant. Pre-puberty? I wasn’t a rebellious teen. I was an overachiever, empathetic with others–to a fault, helpful and considerate. Was it college I did wrong? Leaving bad jobs and worse marriages? Not having a bunch of kids I can’t support? It can’t be due to my current beliefs. She never hears any of them.

The worst part is she still works at the horrible place, so I get to hear all the stories. The night before Xmas, I had one of the Top 5 Worst Nightmares of my life, all about that awful facility. It went on for hours. I sat and relived the sickening feeling of it while I listened to endless chatty stories about the same people who tried to ruin my life on an almost daily basis. I have no good feelings about any of them or any of it. I only endure the telling for my mother, who is compelled to share.

The whole season leaves me tired and uninspired. I hope, as we switch over to the new year, I’ll find a renewed sense of purpose. Get rid of the infection that has been torturing me for months. Dare I dream that I’ll be allowed to have sex again? Feel like exercising? I’m not down, just knocked back a bit, burdened by all of these trappings that interrupt my work and home life.