So This Is Christmas?

It's amazing what a year can do and undo.

My kids no longer believe in Santa, I am completely guilty of said offense.

They are teenagers and quite frankly I am exhausted of keeping up with this "magic"

The late nights of moving that stupid ass Elf and hiding gifts I forget.

I can't even remember where my bathroom is.

Therefore I guess I killed it.

Then yet also what haven't I killed these days?!

My kids hope?

Spirit?

Confidence?

The list goes on.

What address does that letter to Santa get mailed to?

This Christmas is sitting differently with me.

It hurts.

It stings.

I don't want to celebrate.

I want to hide and cry and be held.

But that is not going to happen.

What will occur is that I will have to muster the strength to make Christmas dinner and fake a smile.

All while my kids hate me.

Enter hormones and lack thereof.

Because they have NO clue what it feels like to be completely alone.

I see what you may think about that, you have your kids.

And you are right I do.

But also guess why my back hurts?

From carrying everything.

So yes I am blessed but also burdened and stressed.

They are too.

I don't want that to go unnoticed .

But as an adult my problems weigh 'slightly' more than theirs and they don't get it.

I didn't either which is why I realize I was an asshole kid.

It wasnt until I was alone as an adult trying to hold it all together by myself.

By a string.

A string of poorly lit lights.

But a set I always try to plug in and cross my fingers that they work.

So here's to the holidays.

The best and worst of times.

I'm trying to pour a cup of cheer.

With a box of tissues close at hand.

Here is to the gift of hope, and to that string of lights that work.

I will always try to plug them in with fingers crossed.

Merry Christmas.

Xoxo,

C.