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Occasionally I've weathered jokes about my bad attitude toward Christmas, or (from well-meaning people) pressure to join larger, more festive gatherings than my small plus-one tradition.
Here is a story about a Grinch, told in the context of The Worst Christmas. 1/
Here is a story about a Grinch, told in the context of The Worst Christmas. 1/
My seven siblings and I were homeschooled (no-schooled) by our deeply conservative parents. This isn't the thread for all the details, but in sum, my mom was very emotionally (and sometimes physically) abusive. My dad was narcissistic and absent. They divorced when I was 12. 2/
Even for public school kids, there were few ways out of our tiny conservative rural town. A dismally small number of youth got out through joining the military or going to college. From a younger age than I remember, I wanted the latter. 3/
For my parents, it was unthinkable for me, a then-girl, to go to college. Girls were homemakers and mothers, only. So when I was roughly high school age (no one was counting), I started to make it happen. 4/
I studied for the ACT in secret. I forged my mom's signature to get the required vaccines (my parents were anti-vaxxers, of course). I borrowed $50 from a family friend to apply to a single college, with no academic record, no money, and about an 8th grade education. 5/
Everything paid off when, in November 2004, I was accepted. I cannot adequately describe the moment I found out. Sharp, shooting, overwhelming joy. I was so desperate to get out and now I finally could. 6/
My mom had my $500 seat deposit. The money came from an alternative education program that gave money to homeschoolers. If she denied it to me, they would cut our funding. She wanted the money to buy herself two (2) pianos with our money. For our "education." 7/
So, I won. She couldn't stop me from going. Instead, she stopped talking to me and the three younger brothers who lived with us. Stopped talking completely. She wore duct tape over her mouth all day, every day. 8/
I already did most of the homemaking and homeschooling for my brothers, but she stopped helping at all. She sat in her chair all day listening to music. 9/
On Christmas, she gave us all $5 to buy each other gifts at the dollar store. We got plastic wallets and keychains. We had brownies with candles in them and sang Happy Birthday to Jesus. 10/
The last time I ever saw my mom was on Boxing Day. She didn't come home that night, or the next. It was four days before my dad came to pick us up, and only after we ran out of food. 11/
It was now Dec. 30th. My seat deposit was due Dec. 31. My mom was gone and so was my seat deposit. I was wrecked, shattered, terrified. College was my only way out. 12/
Imagine my shock when my dad offered to pay. He absolutely opposed college for girls. Plus, $500 was an unthinkable amount for us. But he did it. We drove to the post office and he mailed a check, Next Day mail. 13/
Once more, I felt the sharp and shooting joy. I felt overwhelming and soaring love for my father and heartbreaking gratitude that he DID love me. He cared. 14/
On the way home from the post office, he pulled over and told me the reason for his unexpected gift. My mom had committed suicide on the 27th.
It was now the 30th. My 17th birthday was the next day, December 31. 15/
It was now the 30th. My 17th birthday was the next day, December 31. 15/
I don't think I'm a good enough writer to convey what all that felt like. The unparalleled, crushing joy at getting out. The horror of my mom's suicide. The relief that she couldn't hurt us anymore. The fear of trying to make it in a different state, completely alone. 16/
Christmas hurts. It hurts in an untouchable, impossibly big way. I don't want to share it with festive crowds or happy families. I don't want anyone anywhere near that hurt place. I just want it to be over. 17/
The only point I have: when people say that Christmas sucks or they want to be alone or want something other than lights and presents and food, be kind. Offer a place to be but don't push. Be available to listen but don't expect vulnerability. No Grinch jokes. 18/
Thank you for reading. I hope that the holidays are bright and joyful for you. If they aren't, you are so, so not alone.
fin.
fin.
