I hate holidays.
There, I said it. I’m very social, I entertain, I cook. I do it to avoid being with my family.
Ever since my dad died when I was in my early 20s, holidays with my family have sucked. It was my dad who somehow made it all bearable. I say he protected us from our mom, but my sister says not; he put up with her just like we did.
My mom is obsessive-compulsive and critical. She complains about something constantly. Nothing you ever do is right. You might buy her a gift she likes but there still will be something wrong with it. She’s temperamental. ADHD. She doesn’t listen. She constructs her own reality.
It’s going to snow. Maybe I shouldn’t come. Maybe she’s right.
My Ex was a buffer. Even last year when we were separated he showed up. Actually, we carpooled. He could always handle her. Maybe I even miss him a bit. I remember the time he told her to stop picking on me. She would listen to him.
You left on a plane early this morning with The Wife and YD, maybe YS, too — I didn’t really ask. It’s GD’s birthday. I’m sure the party is over by now. I can’t wait to see the photos. I will never meet your family — your parents, your children and grandchildren.
I’ve always been attracted to men with strong ties to their families. A shrink would say because I never had any.
My heart is breaking and I’m having a hard time being thankful right now.
My heart is with you. Always.