Sunday, December 22, 2013

My First Separated Christmas

I don't have anything funny to say about this pain in my chest.  I will say that clenching my abs when I feel this pain begin sometimes helps.  I will say that Assistant has taught me to lean forward when the tears well, that the damage to my makeup and overall facial composition will be less severe if they run down my cheeks than back across my temples to my ears as they do when I lean back.

Fuck Christmas in the neck with a cookie cutter.  I'm homesick.  I'm exhausted.  I'm longing for the normal that never was.  I'm forgetting why I left.  I'm angry.  I'm resentful.  It's Troubled's fault I can't go home.  It's Juvie's fault I can't go home.  It's Mr. K.'s fault I can't go home.  I'm waiting for him to fuck up and stay a drunk and go to the hospital for the third time and maybe finally admit that he needs help but it will be too late because he's already lost me.  Anyway, he's taking too damn long to implode, and, in the meantime, I'm missing Christmas.

I want to make cookies.  I want to see unpack my Christmas things.  I want to argue about whether it's the year for the small tree in the bay window that I like or the large tree taking up the whole damn room, even up against the wall, that Mr. K. likes.  We alternate years because I'm accommodating like that.  I know lots of couples where the wife gets her way about everything, mostly because she cares about getting everything just so, and the husband cares more about keeping peace and being left alone. But in my family, I want things a certain way, but I don't feel strong enough to fight for them.  Mr. K. wants the opposite almost on purpose.  You can tell it wasn't something he felt strongly about until he saw that it would be a fight.  That he would always win.

I want to make Christmas.  Except I don't really.  In fact, a small part of me is rather relieved that I don't have to make Christmas this year.  Because either Christmas makes me hypomanic or my hypomania makes Christmas, but either way, it's a huge effort.  One that I used to make, and gladly.  But this year, because I don't get to, I don't want to, and I'm glad I don't, because I don't have that manic energy this year.  I only have sadness, regret, longing, nostalgia, anger, and malaise in equal measure, in quick succession or all at once, I can't really tell.

I will stop by the house to bring the kids their presents, having agonized whether Troubled will be there, whether I should give her a present, whether she will give me one (last year she gave me two left suede pumps from Walmart, I am not even kidding right now), whether she will once again make herself the center of attention in that we will all nervously anticipate whether she will come and how she might act, whether she will be high, whether she will bring Juvie, whether he will enter the house, whether I will freak out about it when he does because you just know he will.  The friends I see once a year will be there, and they will pull me aside and we will go into the bedroom where I will recount an abbreviated and watered-down version of the Nightmare Year, with the fact that we haven't discussed it until now hanging between us in a cloud of clumsy embarrassment.  And the thing that will save me, the thing I will remember, the thing everyone will remember, is that I will have swept my adolescent son away to the movies, to the horror or amusement or envy of the gathering, for a joyous, irreverent viewing of Anchorman 2.  


Well, that escalated quikly

19 comments:

  1. Hang in there, pal. The first time is the hardest. But it's worth it to go through the pain and change, because nobody needs to live with an alcoholic. It's not good for you.

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  2. Love you, Miss Klonnie. I'll be thinking of you this Christmas. Heartbreaking little blog entry you've got here. You made me cry, god dammit!

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  3. In an effort to return the existential wonderfulness of the Jung quote that you posted, here goes.....

    "All the darkness in the world cannot extinguish the light of a single candle" - Frances of Assisi. Scientific support: http://www.livescience.com/33895-human-eye.html

    My point: At the very least you have the light of your son to guide you through the pandemonium of everything else.

    If that doesn't help, just know that I have to welcome my own version of Troubled into my house for 10 days, starting today. And I found out about this yesterday. Let the panic, tears and heart crushing pain ensue.

    I wanted to end that on a positive note, but..... well ..... fuck.

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  4. I wish there was something or anything wise or pithy I could say here that would be of any help to you in managing such an overwhelming sadness. But, I'm afraid your Assistant's advice is probably better than anything else that can be offered to you right now.

    The only thing I can say is what I know. You are going to get through this. This grief will pass, and you will find yourself at a time where the hurt won't be there any more. You'll know that distancing yourself from such destruction was right, and you will be free once again to experience happiness in a way that you've forgotten exists.

    I guess the fact that I've only got one eye open, and my Ego is still asleep is a good thing, elsewise I'd think I could fix this, and my comment would be longer as well as inevitably full of shit..

    I'll just keep you in my thoughts, hope for the best, and hug ya as tight as one can from my side of the country. You'll be alright, and in time, a lot better than just alright. It just takes time.

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  5. I wish you peace...just today. Take one day to stop hurting/thinking. Go to a movie yourself and eat popcorn and lose yourself. You deserve the rest...:)

    Bruce

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  6. Christmas can be hard. My extended family kind of fell apart over the last year and it's going to be a sad Christmas. I already know. Usually this is my favorite time of the year but this year I'm dreading it. Just wanted to comment and let you know you're not alone.

    xo, Sarah
    Hustla, baby.

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  7. I hate comment hugs but here's one anyway. This is my 8th Christmas post-divorce. It gets better, I promise. Our stories are markedly different but there are some pretty freaky similarities. One of them being, I too plan on taking a few of my teens to see Anchorman 2. Because I keep divorced Christmas classy like that.

    Hang in there. It took me two years before I could dig out my Christmas shit. And even then it felt empty and so sad. But it gets better, I promise.

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  8. Really enjoy your writing...glad that, even in the change and the pain, you find expression. Look forward to following your blog. Thanks for sharing what's real for you (b/c you also know it is real to others.) Blessings for your holiday, hoping that the magic stays and the painful moves along.

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  9. Why does this sound just like me? I am on a prescription cocktail of Depakote for bipolar, Klonopin for anxiety and Welbutrin for depression. Merry Christmas......I think. :/

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  10. [[ hugs ]] I know, from a complete stranger...but having went through my own first separated Christmas a few years ago, and now with my adult son married and the other 2 attempting-to-be-adult sons blowing in the wind, I understand about wanting to "make" Christmas. and the sheer gut wrenching feeling that comes along with it because you DO want to, don't want to, miss it, feel it, love it, hate it. sigh... you will make it through, but not without some bruises. (but you'll have FUN at the movies with the adolescent one! How cool is that to go to the movies with your Mom on Christmas??!! That's one lucky kiddo) :) I'm going to be by myself on Christmas Eve & Day also....so I'll be thinking of you!! Cheers >>clink<< Judy

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  11. I remember for a long period of time after I woke and found out my entire life was a lie, it hurt. .... terribly. My husband turned out to be a fugitive and had been on the lamb since a few months before we met. He high tailed it or of town to be with a girl who didn't want him, leaving me2 months pregnant, homeless and jobless. I kept a journal for a while, mainly just to put my hurt and anger somewhere besides in my chest. I used to pray for the day that I would not think about him at all. That was the summer of '10. I didn't think I would evernot be sad or angry with him. But about 2 years later I found that journal and I honestly did not remember the extent of the pain. No one can tell you how long it will take to"getover" it and how bad the hurt will be but I can tell you it will end and it Will be better. From someone on the other side of the hurt, do what you gotta do to get to the other side of the pain. bc damn it is worth it and so are you!! You got this!!

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  12. Bravo on surviving the first separated christmas. I imagine that even without having to "do christmas" it still took a lot of effort. It always does. Sending good vibes your way for 2014.

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  13. My first holidays after separation was a nightmare. Kept having to answer the questions " where is your husband?" Like four hundred times, I mean seriously? Do you all think that I don't know you called each other discussing my marriage, and kids since the separation?
    I am happy now but it takes a long time and a lot of second guessing yourself and the decisions you have made. Do what you can to make you happy abd the rest will fall into place. Thanks for your blog, it always makes me smile.

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  14. OMG! I so love you!!! Thanks so much for describing (with such eloquence and humor) the emotional theme park I've been in the past week or year or so. Hope you have a better new year, Klonnie! Btw...in other news, the Pope cancelled Hell. See? things aren't all bad. You're welcome. =D

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  15. Yea! You survived to ring in the New Year with us Nutjobs

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  16. I went through this myself many years ago (I am old as dirt). It's hard to get past the need we all have for loving family. We are also taught by movies and ads and books that Christmas and Thanksgiving and Passover and etc., are supposed to be happy, joyful, loving family experiences. I believe most families in this country are severely dysfunctional, so the hurt of the difference between reality and the dream is widespread. It's part of why the suicide rate goes up during the holidays. My advice is to build your own family...a healthy one of friends, spouse, children. That takes work, but the results are well worth it and it goes a long way to filling that painful hole in your chest. Good luck and I love your blog!

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