It’s Christmas. What can I say? I don’t celebrate Christmas. Never had. I wasn’t brought up that way. I was brought up to curse and swear, hate my body, turn a blind eye when my daughter gets raped, yell at everyone in the house, and pretend to the world we are a most loving family. Happy Xmas.
Not that I want to take anything away from anyone celebrating the holidays. I have a member that wishes to pain that she was right there with you, having a family to visit, waking up to bacon and eggs on Christmas morning, a fireplace with stockings hanging and goodies inside, a plethora of presents under the tree for me and my members from people that love me, and a big Christmas dinner where everyone in the family comes and eats and has happy conversation and good food and there is no awkardness or silence or fighting at the table. That is my grown up wish.
I see it happen in the movies and on t.v. Do families really celebrate the holidays this way? Is it all sunshine and roses like it appears to be? I really want to know. Am I missing out on what is only an idea, a fantasy, or am I missing out on the real deal where families do get together in love and support one another?
I’ve been really sad and depressed lately. I’ve tried working on the blog, making it more appealing. But I’m sad. I feel so fat I can’t stand being awake and so I’ve stayed depressed and in bed for the past few days, just trying to sleep away the cognizance that I’m imperfect, fat, lazy, worthless, and that I will never escape. I gained much from residential treatment, but the eating disorder is the hardest to manage. It is so maniacle and deliberate and hateful. It’s tentacles are in me and won’t let go. I can’t even breathe.
I digress and weaken the struggle against the octupus. Squeeze me till there is no more.