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I guess after realizing that Christmas is so close, being excited, for the first time in my life, and also filled with hatred.

I don't do religion, I don't do tradition, or holidays like normal people.

I hate christmas. All I can ever remember is those years when I was little, Having hopes and dreams crushed every year around the tree as we struggled. As my mom struggled with my siblings and I to even have it happen.

I remember cheap ham, and macaroni and cheese dinners. A few charity gifts and a step dad who didn't even care. He was too busy being drunk and getting high.



I remember when I turned 11 in November that year, I was in grade 6. Things at home were hard. I was vastly slipping into my anti social - social paranoia personality. It was a downward spiral that would lead me to my darkest places.

My mom took us and left on christmas. I remember trying to set up a sad tree with a few sad presents for my brothers. realizing that childhood was over. whatever childhood was. Now as I was sure my step dad was at his house, passed out on the livingroom floor - drunk, high and whatever else- we had to pretend that life hadn't thrown us another tragic obstacle.





I'm 25 now, and that was 14 years ago, but I still remember it as if it were last week.

I did fall between then and now. I fell into places so dark it would suck the air from your lungs and you wouldn't breathe. Suffocation and a desire for the end.



I wonder now, as my boyfriend and I get ready for our last christmas as a simple, carefree couple, if I would have to face the same struggles with my own family.

Would our child have to realize that santa wasn't real long before she was ready? Would she have to sit up with her sick brother, while her mom worked double shifts, back to back jobs and school? I'll worry about bringing her up right, making sure she survived as well as I did all those years. But I don't want her to survive, I want her to be happy, and laugh. not cry, and wonder why her parents were never around.



years later I realized that my mom did all that for us. and yeah we survived, she unknowingly taught us survival. And we lived in survival mode for so long we take on everything head first with no regrets.



I guess, while I hate the holidays and I hate the cheerful faces, the rush shopping and the tradition, I love it, because even through survival, and doom, nobody can take it away from me.



Fear, and hope, and possibility and I sound like a bad book.