Winter Holidays are my favorite time of year. I don’t celebrate any of them beyond wishing others, but that’s what makes it special for me. I like to indulge in the fantasy of the holiday season where everyone is nice and cool shit happens on 34th street.
I always wanted to be with my family around the holidays but when I left home as an adult I began dreading going back. For years I would drag my then partner with me, or make a friend come.
Last year I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t deal with the awkwardness.
Instead, I had two days off with peace and quiet. It may have been my favorite Christmas ever.
*Above is a revision of my original post from winter 2021. The original is quoted below
This was my first Christmas alone. I estranged myself from my family, and my best friend is out of the country. I have disappeared from pretty much everyone I know outside of work and
need a lot of time and space to clear my head.
I always thought that Christmas time was my favorite time of year, but I think I like the idea of Christmas, but not the reality of it. At least not the ones I have experienced through my adult life.
I always wanted to be with my family around the holidays, but it took walking away from them to realize how much justifying I had to do to enjoy the holiday. I dreaded going home more and more every year, and would always drag someone along with me.
Maybe if we hadn’t had this whole pandemic mess this never would have happened. But this year I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t deal with the awkwardness, the fighting, the boomer humor, the constant…constant quips and jokes and puns…on top of the gaslighting and guilt.
I had two days off with total peace and quiet.
It may have been my favorite Christmas ever.