That moment you realize the hate you had for Christmas, was never your hate.
Earlier I was standing in the local pharmacy, looking at all the gift sets, the music was playing, all the people were frantically trying to do what they could on their lunch hour.
Then there was me. Smiling.
Totally calm, peaceful, and lifted up.
So, I wandered around, I looked at all the chocolate, the lifesavers candy storybook that’s changed since I was a kid.
and all the pretty things.
Then it hit me, and I almost had a full on ugly Heather cry in the store.
I didn’t hate Christmas. The hate wasn’t mine. It was what I was around growing up.
You see there was never “enough” according to others. Or there was too much done by others. It was “people getting carried away” or.. people “wishing they could do more”.
It was the argument over when the tree was going to be put up because if you’re looking at it for too long it feels like it makes the month go by SO slowly.
We can all come up with 50 different “It was passed down with all the pains of the family” stories. But regardless of who I was around during my upbringing, their circumstances, or anything else we want to psychoanalyze with this, I don’t blame anyone. I just don’t have the energy to carry anyone else’s shit.
So here is what standing in the middle of the gift set aisle at the pharmacy gave me.
Knowledge of a new story. The true-me story.
I love the lights, I love the trees, I love the glorious white perfectly packed snow, I love those big blow up lawn decorations (ya ya that’s the commercial part).
I know that my two favourite Christmas songs are:
Do they Know it’s Christmas ~ Band Aid
So this is Christmas ~ John Lennon
I also know… that I’ve just cleared a huge layer of pain and trauma in my life before kicking off not only 2020, but also my 39th birthday. Now that, is a Christmas miracle to me. 💜
