Posted on December 17th, 2011
I don’t hate this time of the year. I like the dark and gray of winter in these latitudes; I like wearing wool (being genetically predisposed by virtue of Scottish heritage) and am currently wearing a wool skirt, shell, and cardigan. I love winter. This unseasonable sunshine is getting to me. Christmas is kind of iffy for me, since I go into it expecting disappointment (years of childhood conditioning; another story) but overall, December is fine.
But this year? Oh, my effing god, will this month never END?
Just this week brought the medical weirdness (actually traditional for us in December; yet another story for another time), renewed panic about money, specifically paying for copays (fortunately, klonopin is cheap and plentiful), and then packages from my parents. For Pea.
Oh, some holiday cheer, you might think. Sure. Maybe. I made M open the one from my father. Thankfully, there were no bombs. There were some things for Pea and a small check for Pea, which might be considered generous except for the part where his mother died this year and he didn’t tell me and no, no one has let me know anything about her will, either. I know this should annoy me as a lawyer and/or putative heir, but really truly, I am glad for the lack of contact.
And then the next one, yesterday, from my mother. Yes, another one. Yes, the same mother who doesn’t speak to me. This one contained a gift, wrapped (I am taking it on faith that it is not a bomb, and it is under the tree). The package also contained my mother’s wedding veil from forty-plus years ago, and five years after my parents’ extremely acrimonious divorce in which both sides enlisted all the children in open warfare.
Note attached: “For [Pea] to play dress up.”
And I just…yeah. I have no words.
What can you do with that, except say “whatever?” The crazy thing is I’m sure she had good intentions (so far as my mother is capable of having them), because she is too self-absorbed to be subtly manipulative (my father on the other hand…).
In any case, we turned the veil into a game, and I took some blackmail-worthy pictures of myself wearing it (promptly posted to Facebook, because unless it’s on Facebook, it didn’t happen).
So holy hell, I want January to come, and soon, even though it means Pea will be out of preschool and home with me. I just want this month to be over. I want the holidays done. I want to stop having hourly panic attacks about money. I want to be done with December. MAKE IT STOP!