I put my Christmas stuff up today.
I didn’t put anything up last year because my heart hurt so much. My heart hurts right now too though. I love every single thing that takes place the last two months of the calendar year. The magic the holidays bring makes my soul light up with warmth that lies dormant throughout the year.
I love the lights and the spirit and the snow. I love buying gifts for those I’m close to, decorating the tree, holiday parties. I love the food and the feeling of memories being made.
I thought this year would be easier than last and honestly, I know it will be. I thought that everything was going to be okay, that everything is okay because I’m okay.
But why do I find myself laying on my couch, eyes full of the biggest tears, feeling the need to write this sappy post with 3% battery at 8 p.m. on a Saturday night? I’m cozied up here next to Bodhi, my fake fireplace is crackling with seasonal spirit, and I’m watching the ninth Christmas movie this week.
I am okay but I’m really not.
The holidays haven’t even begun yet and I’m already getting pre-emo over the beautiful families in the Christmas cards I haven’t seen and the oh so romantic engagements or weddings.. or babies being born. It’s like I’m giving myself fair warning of what is to come.
I know it’ll be fine and I’ll find the happiness for those around me; fill my heart with glee for the genuine joy others are experiencing because that’s what you have to do. Fake it ’til you make it. Or some shit like that. But I haven’t found a cure for a heart forever broken from something it never truly had.
I can do this being alone thing for however long the universe thinks I need it. It just really really sucks sometimes.