don't let me know it's christmas time...

I’m normally a bit of a Grinch around this time of year and not without good reason.

My mum was married to a bodybuilder for a few years and he managed to destroy Christmas with his steroid fed anger. Seriously. This usually resulted in tears, charred meat on the barbeque and a lot of slamming of doors. Mum would be crying, John would be red faced with his mega arms flailing and I’d just be standing there with Abby shaking my head and muttering under my breath something about next year it being her family’s turn to take us.

Mum would also make this epic deal out of Christmas, inviting loads of people around and insisting on catering for everyone. The days leading up to Christmas would be tense. Mum would be in the kitchen until two am making, mixing, caking and cursing. Hours would be spent in Safeway shopping, waiting, shoplifting (that would be me) and swearing. It was a pretty scary time. My mother would be so volatile that I would not go into the kitchen or the surrounding areas for fear of her manic, stressed outbursts. Rather than eat well, I would snack on my shoplifted snacks in my bedroom, sneak out my window for some fresh air and spend a lot of time in the bathroom doing what I guessed girls did in there. Hiding from my mother due to THE FEAR*

Christmas is a period of immense, unnecessary stress, and I still very much stand by this.
The carols stress me, the summer tv guide stresses me, the shopping stresses me, the people stress me. Christmas brings out the fuckwit and I have a low tolerance of the fuckwit.

About a month ago, my Mum asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I said “to be left alone, for just one day. I just want to read in bed, drink tea and ride up to Pete’s place in the arvo for a beer.” Normally, this would upset her, she’d make this big deal about how Christmas is family time and she would be devastated to not see me. I was ready for it, I had worked out how to justify it to her and get her to come around to the idea of Boxing Day dinner, near my house, at somewhere I like to eat. Mum’s response was “Okay, that’s fine with me… It even makes things easier. We’ll come to yours with Jesse (rad step brother) on Boxing Day for dinner. WIN! I was speechless!

So I am getting exactly what I want this Christmas! Peace & quiet and the opportunity to do as I please. I’m a little nervous… It’s a bit of time to fill. The only downside I can see is that I don’t have any shoplifted snacks, and I’m currently struggling with the book I am reading. Both of these, I can work on in the coming days. Is this shaping up to be the greatest Christmas ever? We’ll just have to wait and see. I know it’ll be without THE FEAR* and that can only be a good thing.

Cmx

* THE FEAR is a feeling I get in the back of my neck when I know my mum is stressed and close to snapping at the closest family member. My neck tingles and tenses up. It’s like a built in warning system telling me to “stay the fuck away at all costs.”