Question of the Day!

In full honesty: I managed to fake my way through it.

I'm non-religious and just celebrate the commercial aspect of Christmas. The feeling this year was . . . different. I'm well aware that the magic of Christmas is very much the creation and effort of one's parents and it's futile to try and recapture the sentiments of nostalgia from when we were younger. But I certainly miss it. As I get older, the magic and sense of wonder and whimsy fade more and more.

It seems the naivety of our childhood betrays us. It fools us into rushing to grow up, never warning us how incredibly lonely adulthood can be. And this Christmas season, trying to muster any amount of seasonal hope or Christmas magic was near impossible.

Growing up, both sides of my family were large and had equally large gatherings. It was wonderful. The stuff out of movies. And then on the cusp of my cousins and I being thrust into our teenage years, something happened. It all started coming unglued. Infighting and family politics took over and everyone became tribal and stuck to themselves. And that's how it's been since I was 13 years old: just my mom, my dad, my younger brother, and I.

Until Covid.

My parents' marriage was another victim of the pandemic. This year was the first year both of my parents have respective significant others. This year my brother and I allotted Thanksgiving Day with my dad and Christmas Day with my mom. Thanksgiving was grand. Had a blast. Would definitely do again. My dad's partner is amazing and very caring and was a wonderful host.

Fast forward to Christmas Day. I'm not very close with my mom's new partner. And I think part of that has to do with me still somehow blaming him for my parents' divorce though he had nothing to do with it. But that's neither here nor there. The day started off well enough. My mom and I prepared a Christmas ham and all the sides and fixings, made homemade hot cocoa, and a spread of desserts. But the atmosphere wasn't festive. Not really. I could feel the phoniness of it. To the point it was actually troubling me.

During the course of dinner, my brother made a general political comment. It didn't bode well with my mom's boyfriend. And in typical fashion of that particular end of the political spectrum, the man began pounding his chest and yelling. He's from the mind that certainly must believe one's political ideology and beliefs are only true and valid if they're yelled the most aggressively. My brother and I both bit our tongues more than we've ever had to—not out of fear, but out of respect for my mother because we knew she'd be dealing with the aftermath once we left. Needless to say, it made both of us feel very unwelcomed and fearful for our mother and her safety should she ever express an opinion that's not drank from the same cup of kool-aid. My mom expressed her apologies numerous times. We don't place blame on her. But the man's venom and victimization were enough that I don't want to ever celebrate Christmas with them again; not if he's involved.

Big yikes. Sorry for the rant. But I just really needed to get that off of my chest and vent somewhere. Otherwise I'd bottle it up inside and scream.