Good morning fellow bloggers!
A new topic was posted in my support group online. So like the last entry, here’s my “POF homework assignment” as I like to think of it.
Even though I feel like something was stolen from me about Christmas, I deeply love and accept myself.
Christmas has always been my favorite. Well, and Halloween too. Of course, the two holidays mostly designed around the joy of children. The songs, the lights, the egg nog. My coffee bar is currently a winter wonderland of peppermint mochas and hot chocolates and that Mariah Carey song all day long. And I LOVE it! My families tradition has generally been the same, nothing weird or crazy. We do Christmas breakfast and dinner. And I was lucky to take on breakfast for the first time last year – about two weeks prior to my diagnosis. I kind of already knew by then what was going on, but pushed myself to enjoy the holiday season regardless. I have one cousin who believes in Santa still, though I am pretty sure that is coming to an end soon.
Christmas has always been about just being with my family. Enjoying each other’s company. Remembering fond memories of past holidays, and people (my parents and brother are not with us – dad passed away and my mom remarried and moved to another country with my brother) fighting over who gets to eat the extra whipped cream off the egg beaters or whatever they are (my best friend would be appalled at my lack of kitchen equipment knowledge lol) and my uncle not sharing enough delicious homemade Christmas cookies. Ya jerk! But I digress.
I don’t think that I am necessarily affected this holiday season as much as I think by POF. Nor will I be maybe for the next few years. It doesn’t change how much I love the holiday for the reasons I’ve always loved it. Those lights and the cookies and spending it with my crazy and wonderful family. I think my grief for the loss of creating a life and carrying on the traditions will be backwards, though. What I mean is…when my dad passed, it was immediately hard to enjoy the holidays. Immediately hard to enjoy a birthday. Same when my mom and brother moved away. But over time that got a lot easier for me. I worry about how I will feel in later years. When my grandparents are no longer around. When my younger cousins grow older (and probably too cool for me) I always dreamed of continuing on my love for the holiday and being able to share that with my own children. To have some more Santa believers in my house. To come up with something clever for our little Elf on the Shelf, who I would name David Bowie. Or Dobby. I feel like that delight was stolen from me.
That’s how I feel about Christmas this year. And I feel awful that I have tossed that feeling into the mixture of the love I had for it. Every day it takes a lot of energy and strength to not be angry. And I want so badly to emerge through the holidays in one piece even though I feel like pieces are missing.