Don't Lie To Me

Don't lie and pretend you knew nothing of us not staying at your house Christmas eve. Several people, including myself, told you. So, don't give me this shit.

I understand that you did what you felt you had to, but now I'm trying to understand how this slipped by unnoticed all these years. You were good at hiding skeletons. Please do not hide the truth from me. I love you and I can help you.

You have disappointed me again. Maybe you have selective memory, but in my experiences you remember things better than I do. I do not remember things readily, but when I do, I fucking do. I know you were lying. I don't want this to come between us again, so, please don't lie to me.

I know I cannot tell you everything. For my own safety and for your piece of mind some things must remain hidden. I come under the guise that I can say anything. That this place is safe, and for the most part it is. Most of the time I'd rather talk to you rather than anyone else, but I am sorry. I am sorry that I lie to your pointed questions, but I do so for my own protection.

Please do not tell me you are okay when you clearly are not. I know its a lie and you know that I know. But then isn't that the exact same lie I just told you moments earlier? And don't I know that you know that, too?

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

Christmas Lessons

Don't give a three year old a 500 piece puzzle. I am seriously going to bring it back to grandma's house. The boy expected a nice puzzle that would have Buzz together in 30 seconds and when he wasn't he just cried.

Christmas is for the poor. It seems like families with money don't appreciate Christmas like poorer families do. I know a few richer families that don't even exchange gifts. In my family everyone gives everyone a gift. Even new boyfriends that not everyone knows. And they seem to be better gifts, a lot of homemade things, or something someone casually remarked that they might like to have. Remember that song where the woman sells her hair for a watch chain and the husband sells his watch for combs for her hair?

I am Ryder's mother no matter where we are. If I want to take him somewhere I will. It does not matter who is around. If I want to watch him open his presents, I will. My new years resolution is to stand up for myself. I am his mom. My mother is not.

Christmas is anti-climatic. I worked so hard for months to make everyone's gifts, for it to be over in a few minutes.

Next year I am doing Xmas at my house. If anyone wants to come over, they are welcome, but I am doing things my way. We are going to open gifts one at a time so we can watch each other. And no one will complain that I am "behind".

Any gifts that are not age appropriate, go into storage until they are.

My final Christmas lesson is that Xmas is not supposed to be sad. I need to surround myself with people who do not make me cry. And I have the ability to do that.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

Humbug

Stupid fucking thing, I thought to myself as I threw the tree on the curb.

You know when Scrooge is with the Ghost Of Christmas Yet To Come and he sees his own grave?  He keeps insisting these events can be changed.  But despite how jolly or humbug he is, he will still die.  I don't get this.

I went back into the house and started coughing again.  I had put the whole tree together before I noticed it was trying to kill me.

I understand the Marleys telling him about the chains after he dies.  That makes sense... I guess.

Ryder didn't seem to mind the mold on the tree, but my poor lungs could not take it.  Sorry, Ryder, no tree this year, I silently conveyed to him.

And Scrooge was rich and had nice things.  So won't the poor loot his shit when he dies either way?

Apparently, not having a Christmas tree is some sort of sin or something, because everyone insisted that I had to have a tree.  I wasn't going to be at home on Christmas day, I explained, but this meant nothing.

Maybe this is all explained better in the book?  I tried reading it once, but Dickens was too hard for me.

When we got home that night, Santa (my mom) had set up a tree for us.  Ryder was really excited.  We decorated it right away.  I was convinced that the lights were moldy too, but they might have just been musty.  I'll get rid of them after Christmas either way.

The tree is beautiful and we had loads of fun, so I guess we did need the tree.  Then I remembered that I hadn't mailed the cards out yet.

My Year in Status

Click the image to see it bigger

See what you could be seeing if you were facebook friends with me?  :D

Go, Please

Why are you still here?
I have told you to leave
Yet you remain

What are your intentions?
What are you meaning to do?

Please leave.
Please take your stuff and go.
Please let us heal in peace.
It is too hard when you are still here.

When you are in the kitchen and the living room
When you are in My bed.
When you invade my dreams.

This is my time.
Not yours.
You gave it up.
You gave us up.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

Writing and Learning

I have been meaning to write about this for a while now, so I am glad that it is today's prompt.

What inspires you to write?

I write with the hope that by the end I will have learned something.  Usually it is something about myself, but not always.

Sometimes I write about stuff other than myself - I do!  Look at my tag cloud! - and sometimes I even do a bit of research.  Sometimes it is just a rant, but even then, looking at it after it is done, I hope to find insight and perhaps even tolerance.  I hope, perhaps, that some of you might gain the same.

Most of the time, I write about my feelings.  I write about my fears and concerns and self doubts.  I write to let them all out and sort through them.  I can't make sense of them when they are twisting and turning in my head.  They look less scary on paper or on the screen.  More manageable.

I write to learn about myself.

Cars and More Cars