now that the holidays are over, i can say it.
i can't stand the christmas season. it's not just watching people around me receive the perfect gifts while i make do (hence why i just asked for book store gift cards this year), it's the residual feeling of somehow being not as well-explored. i was talking with somebody about it a while ago, and likened it to sex: no one does it right, so i have to do it myself.
but, while annoying, i can get over. i just go out and buy myself what i really wanted.
but the season's supposed to be about the things that really matter, about those things that we really need, which have no price tag, and feed our souls.
what i really want is my son, and christmas just kind of feels like an empty, cold, annoyingly snow-piled winter inconvenience. i don't put up decorations, i don't mail cards, i make as few phone calls as possible. i tuck my head under and hope it passes quickly. i've seriously considered going to court and relinquishing my parental rights. i'll still be a mother, at least in the loosest interpretation of the word, but i won't feel so marginalized and helpless anymore. i hate christmas.