ohbloodyhell8

Ah, Christmas time…this has been a hell of a year. I will write the cliche…each year passes more quickly than the last. And this year has flown byat times and dragged on forever at other times. Actually, not quite dragged on, more like stood still. I have been very aware of the human construct of time this year… particularly the American construct of time. And I’ve ignored it a lot this year.

I am letting myself enjoy the Christmas season. It officially kicked off for me last Saturday. The sons joined me at A Christmas Carol again. Sixth time? Seventh? Can never seem to remember. We had a Christmas event at church…a lovely night of song. This weekend is filled with plans to celebrate with new friends, friends from high school, and dear old friends to wrap up the weekend! 

Working on my home. Removing the old crappy broken subfloor and installing new subfloor/flooring downstairs for Younger Son. The fourth bedroom is downstairs (1970s split level houses…gotta love ’em) and it’s the same size as Older Son’s room. So Younger Son will have the same space, although the extra space (compared to his bedroom upstairs) comes in the form of a two-feet deep closet that spans an entire wall. So dressers, shelves, etc. go in the closet opening up the space.

And decluttering continues because damn, we have a lot of junk. It feels great to purge, purge, and purge some more. I’ve added some pictures to the wall. Reorganized stuff. It all feels good.

I’m still struggling with my faith. Still grieving my brother. Still hating suicide. Still trying to reconcile how his suicide makes any sense, which it doesn’t is all I can come up with. Still releasing years of emotional crap loaded into and onto me by my mother and sister and have disowned me. I am finally really accepting how little my life has changed now that they told me I was evil and would be burning in hell for my choices. While it’s been painful to realize how many lies there were, I can’t say I’ve missed the three texts they usually sent in the course of a year. It is sad that they think they’ve ended some deep, close relationship. Three texts a year does not a relationship make.

So as I move away from the pain, work through the grief, I find I am getting lighter. 

The lights and decorations look brighter, more sparkly than before. I’m feeling the joy wash over me.