Bracing for It — Part One

The holidays are not my favorite anymore. They used to be. Now, I’m dodging blows. Last Christmas, I swore I’d never celebrate again. It almost broke me. So, I’m looking back now, so I can look forward this year.

Let me fill you in.

I put my heart into holidays. I love them. I love family and friends being together. I love traditional food and pretty tables, and I love being so full you need to unbutton your pants. This, for me, is what the holidays are about. They are about togetherness.

Let me start by saying that this was only my 4th or 5th time celebrating Christmas. I’m Jewish so Christmas has always been fun for me. It’s no pressure, pretty things, getting together with friends, and food. Lots of food. It’s joyful.

Last Christmas, started out magically. It snowed!

It rarely snows in the Seattle area, but we were in for a white Christmas. I was giddy. I got up at the crack of dawn to start cooking. I had Christmas music blasting. The Captain left to pick up the kids and grandpa, because of the snow. When they got home, girl child came in and didn’t acknowledge me (not a new scenario), the boy child gave me a big hug, as did grandpa. They all got settled and hung out while I was happily cooking away in the kitchen.

We gathered in the living room, and presents and stockings were exchanged. The Captain and I weren’t giving gifts to each other since our anniversary was days away, and we didn’t expect grandpa to give us gifts, those are for the kids. Presents started getting exchanged and I slowly realized that everyone was opening gifts, except for me. The kids didn’t give me a card, say Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays. Nothing. Even the boy child, who I have such a good relationship with, was like a different person. It seemed as if he and the girl child had decided not to acknowledge me. They showered their dad and grandpa with gifts, but nothing for me. I was invisible. It was like I wasn’t even there.

I shouldn’t have been surprised because they’ve never really acknowledged my birthday, or anything else. And in years past, they typically would give me a candy bar for Christmas. #thankyouhersheys.

So I got breakfast ready, and the Captain came into the kitchen knowing how hurt I was. He saw it on my face. I kept thinking to myself, “How am I here again?” I could barely hold back my tears. He knew. He kept apologizing, and I said I just need to make it through breakfast.

Everyone sat down, and I tried to make it through the meal, but I couldn’t. I was hurt beyond hurt, again. So I excused myself in the middle of the meal, and went upstairs.

How did I become the bad guy in all of this? I thought I did everything right. We dated for a year before they knew about me, so the Captain and I were sure we were serious about each other before they met me. And, that was two years after their parents divorced. The Captain and I dated several more years so they could truly get to know me. I moved from the city to the suburbs, and along with their father, we found a house that would work best for them, I paid for their events, without them knowing, I supported them at every turn. I loved them. Now, here I was, crying alone in the bedroom on what should have been an amazingly beautiful and snowy Christmas morning.

And, that was all before 10:00am…