You know me, (OK, you might not really know me, but you’ve read my blog so you sort of know me…then again, you may have just stumbled onto this post after googling “Blue Christmas” hoping to get Elvis and instead you found a crazy woman blabbing about the holiday and kids. If the latter is the case then you will just have to take my word on what I am about to say) I am usually a “glass half full” type of person.
Especially if it is half full of Coca-Cola.
I may have my moments of spazzy, my fits of frustration, my times of stress. But, for the most part, I pull up my farm-girl overalls and get back into looking at the bright side of life. It may take an hour, or a day, but I can make that turn.
This time, though, I am having a hard go of it.
I really didn’t want to write about it. It is Christmas time, after all. People want happy thoughts, feel-good stories. Miracles on 34th Streets. Fa la la la la and all that jazz. A time to look at the wonders around you and be thankful. A time to feel the anticipation of the birth of Jesus. The season of merriment and joy….I want to write about that stuff but all I can think of is wanting it to be over because my heart will be breaking.
Here’s the scoop for why Grinch stole my Christmas (or why my name may be Ebenezerella this year):
My two girls will be away from home from the 21st through the 29th this year.
Quirk of break scheduling and holiday timing made it so. Just thinking about missing the fun and joy of the days leading up to and the days immediately after the holiday makes my ho ho ho turn to boo hoo hoo.
I’ve tried to hide it. Ended up eating a whole bowl of popcorn and several pieces of chocolate while also falling into fits of crabbiness and sobs. If I want to fit into my jeans without fear of blowing out more of my favorites and be happily married to my Country Boy, I had to stop that behavior.
I tried to work through it by getting my lovely little ones gifts that will put smiles on their faces when they opened them. That was great until it dawned on me that they may get many of those same items on the actual Christmas morn and not be so thrilled when they roll around to our gifts days later.
I pulled out my usual “get over it” tools – volunteering to help others, reading sappy stories, praying, etc. It has helped (thank goodness, my chair is saying) but I am still in a funk.
So, here I am, writing about it to you. I’m calling it Blog therapy. (I just hope you don’t charge $100 an hour for your reading services.)
I’m still doing our traditions to make the best out of this holiday season. We talked about Our Lady of Guadalupe yesterday. This morning I woke the girls up wearing a crown of light for the Feast of St. Lucy (granted, it was a few LED head lamps rather than a wreath with candles, but it was light…). We’re decorating gingerbread houses soon, watching classic Christmas movies, driving around looking at holiday lights – you know, the stuff that brings families together. In the back of my mind, though, is the thought of a blue Christmas.
I know I will snap out of it soon. It is usually just the anticipation of something that is worse than the actual thing you are dreading, right? I bet by next week I will be back in full Jingle Bell Rockin’ mode and totally forgetting the blues of these last few weeks.
Still, if I start posting pictures of velvet Elvis and eating peanut butter and banana sandwiches you’ll understand what is going on with me.
Thanks for reading. Let me know how much I owe you.