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Not Bah Humbug, More Like *Sigh*

Every day is bringing us closer to Christmas which is supposed to be a happy time of friends and family and feasting. Usually, I manage to have an enjoyable time getting ready for that one day of chaos. I love the cleaning, decorating, baking and even the crazy shopping. There is a definite energy in Christmas that usually lifts my spirits. Usually. Not this year. This year, I feel like I'm moving through cold molasses. It took me a week to get motivated to clean some of our apartment - the kitchen still isn't up to par yet and I didn't even tidy the bedroom. Decorating the tree was just finished last night - I started Friday, and the rest of the decorating isn't done yet. I've managed to do some baking but my heart doesn't feel in it. TBIT keeps asking what I want for Christmas and I honestly don't really want anything. I see something that momentarily catches my eye and I tell him to put it on his list but I know I can do perfectly well without whatever it is. Usually, I have a list as long as my arm of stuff I want to buy TBIT, this year, I can't remember all the stuff he's hinted at and my finances are so restricted, I'll have to severely curtail my usual spending on him.

Why am I so down? I don't know. Maybe it doesn't feel like Christmas because it is warm and there is no snow. Maybe this is a backlash from my optimism earlier where everything seemed to be bright and positiive in my life. Maybe I'm saddened in that while my friends are now much happier in their lives (which is wonderful, honestly) they have less need of me - for either friendship or food. Maybe I'm lonely.

I'm spending too much time thinking of the past. Of horrid childhood Christmases with my cousin Reggie showing up at the door Christmas Eve with a bottle of rum and sitting in the kitchen getting drunk with my Dad. I'm remembering making Christmas list after Christmas list, poring through the Sears Wishbook. In our house, Santa brought small gifts, Mum & Da gave the big / important stuff. Every year Mum would tell me exactly how much money she had to buy me a Christmas gift. In rare years, it would be as much as $50. Most of the time it was about $20. So I would calculate the cost of the gift, plus taxes and include it in my Christmas list. Usually, it was some type of Barbie playset - I always wanted Barbie's kitchen set with all the appliances and tiny food. My Mum would hand my list off to one of my Aunts who would go shopping 5 hours away in Halifax and who would never, ever buy me anything that was on the list. They would buy what they found on sale, or what their daughter my age wanted. I never ever got what I wanted at Christmas so I stopped bothering to ask. Making a Christmas list was just an exercise in futility, setting my hopes up for disappointment. So that's what I came to associate with Christmas. Happiness for getting a gift but ultimately disappointment because it was never really what I wanted.

To say I grew up poor is a bit of an oversimplication. We had a house and warm beds and clean clothes. Maybe because we were poor, my Mum was a stickler for cleanliness. Most of our clothes were hand-me-downs from cousins and neighbours' kids. Getting something "new" was always a big deal. My Dad was an alcoholic who couldn't hold down a job. If there was a round of lay-offs, he was one of the first to be let go. Money was always tight and sometimes, non-existant. That made Christmas tough because of the expectation of celebration. How can you feast on turkey and all the trimmings if your grocery budget for the week for a family of 6 was $20? So, we were one of those families who received Christmas groceries, usually from our church, sometimes from relatives who pooled money together to take care of us, and sometimes from my Dad's union. There would be a knock on the door a couple of days before Christmas and in the case of coming from the Church, Sister Gillis would be there with a young priest and bags and bags of groceries. They would march into the kitchen and put the groceries down on any available surface, making trip after trip to the car. My mother would sit on a chair and cry while we kids would rummage excitedly through the bags seeing treats that we normally didn't have, like grapes or navel oranges or bags of mixed nuts in amongst the staples. As I got older and understood the truth of our situation, these gestures of charity were mixed blessings of gratitude and shame. I thank our friends and neighbours and community for taking care of us while desparately wish we didn't need taking care of.

When TBIT and I headed out on our own, most of the time, we ended up making our own Christmas. Sometimes, it would just be the two of us so we'd work hard to be happy. We'd wander on Christmas Eve and look at the Christmas lights. I'd cook us Christmas dinner and we'd do whatever we felt like and not worry. Sometimes we were fortunate enough to have friend spend Christmas with us and we'd be busy with preparations for what amounted to a party on Christmas Day. When I'm busy, when I don't have time to think, I'm okay. I might be stressed out because I've taken on too much but that helps me not think. Thinking is bad. This year, I have had too much time to think. I've tried my usualy Christmas traditions - I've watched the Grinch and It's a Wonderful Life and even Die Hard but nothing has helped. Part of me wants to talk to my brother who is here in Whitby and try to laugh at the negative memories - black humour is effective but that would mean having to deal with his annoying wife and 2 very spoiled and greedy kids. I want to call my sister back east but I don't want her to worry about me or get my Mum worrying.

I feel alone and guilty and stupid for feeling like this. I want to be happy and feel what I am supposed to feel in this supposedly joyous season. But everything is such a hassle. Everyone has a busy schedule and no on has time to make room for anyone. Everyone is stressing out to find the perfect gift when I think just receiving anything given with thought and affection is wonderful. Everyone is buying buying buying and I have to watch my budget. I feel ashamed that I don't give more to charity. Having received it, I know it's importance. I'm a mess. I can't even pretend to be happy and sociable. I tried last night at game night and knew I came off as cranky and/or bitter. I'm such a mess.

Posted by Marmy on December 19, 2006 12:42 PM

Comments

Posted by: tbit at December 19, 2006 03:56 PM

Posted by: wN at December 19, 2006 08:14 PM

Posted by: joan at December 20, 2006 12:28 AM