In my household we eat on Christmas Day and open our presents on Christmas Eve. Why? I don’t really remember why but ever since I was small I remember opening my presents a day earlier than everyone else I knew. Christmas Eve was Christmas Day to me, the family came together, we had dinner, the christmas tree was alight, we sung carols and songs, spoke of christmases gone past and opened lovely wrapped boxes and presents that sat decoratively under the tree. We would smile, laugh, debate and even sometimes fight on Christmas Eve more than we did on Christmas Day.
But for some reason this Christmas was different, not because of the lack of presents under the tree, the baby boomer that often complained and pitied herself for being pregnant or their loud children than ran about the house without care. No it was different because I was, I have gotten to the point where I don’t care anymore if I was alone or with them. Because I realized that no matter how many Christmases went by, I was still alone, different. During their christmas laughter, I knew my words, my thoughts, my ideals was nothing like my grandparent’s or father’s. What he believed was not what I believed.
And for some reason, turning 20 this year I yearned more than ever to be released from my parent’s. I yearned for freedom, I yearned for my own space, for my own experiences. To no longer be seen as a child. I yearned to step outside of my box and for once discover the world without commentary of my parent’s. Maybe its rebellion, maybe its hormones. But I wish to be different for once and not to be looked upon, or corrected because I’m different. Even the littlest things bug me now. Even the littlest difference of opinion tugs at my strings. I have become defensive somewhat and easily angered, not because they disrespect me but because I feel as if they wish to tie me and wrap me in a bow of familiarity. As if they refuse to let me be me.
So I don’t eat fat on the bone, or I don’t eat everything thing that’s offered so what, why does it matter how much or how little eat. So sometimes I like being alone and not being around my family. Why should it bug them. I understand Christmas is a time for family. But sometimes pushing yourself to be something you have no desire in being at that moment is not healthy. Sometimes I yearn to be myself, to be myself, to have myself. Constantly putting myself out there for others is tiresome.
I know this isn’t a very happy Christmas message, but its mine. Merry Christmas to all the loners, Happy Xmas to all the individuals. Happy Holidays to all the mes and Happy Nothing to everybody!