Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Letting It Out

As it does, life went and got stupid again.
Look, I'm not a fan of the holidays. Even as a kid, it was just all too much for me. Too much expectation, too much pressure, too many people... just generally too much.

And that hasn't changed one bit for me over the years.

And now I'm going to complain about every fucking thing and get it right the fuck out of my system.
I come from a really big family. I'm the youngest of eight kids. Sounds like the makings of great holiday memories, doesn't it? Actually, no... being the youngest meant I missed out on all those big fun Christmases. By the time I came around and was old enough to understand what Christmas was, my siblings were all moving out and having families of their own and I was left with hearing the stories about how much fun they all had when they were kids.

Then there was the Christmas my oldest brother came home from California to whispers from my whole family. I was only ten and there was a lot there I didn't understand. All I knew was his coming home was a surprise, which meant he wouldn't have any presents Christmas morning so I wrapped up some paperweight I'd made in art class. That's really my last memory of him because he killed himself about a month later.
Now this holiday season, one of my other brothers is in bad shape. You see, the chemo seems to have stopped working. In addition to that, he is in a tremendous amount of pain. The kind where morphine doesn't touch it. And it's hell on my own family, but worse than that, it's hell on him.

And there isn't one fucking thing I can do about it. And it's bullshit and I'm fucking furious. I want to break things, to scream at something. To hit something. But what? I can't beat up cancer. And that fucking pisses me off, too.
I miss my mom at the holidays a lot anyway, but with my brother currently being murdered by cancer, as she was, it's just making it that much harder for me. Mom was my best friend. I want my mommy, damn it.

I don't care that I'm 45 years old. I want my mom back. Now.
And because that isn't enough, last Saturday my sister-in-law's brother was killed in a freak accident chopping down a tree. This guy... he was just a farmer. The man worked every day of his life. He was a good man. A dependable man. He farmed the land every day that has been in my sis-in-law's family for eight generations and he was chopping down an oak tree, as he'd done hundreds of times before, and the damn thing split and killed him instantly.

Now his 21 year old son is left with this giant responsibility on his shoulders and I'm just gutted for him.
The bizarre thing about that whole situation is that he'd been feeling bad for a while and had some tests run last week. The family got the results on Monday, after he died. Turns out, he had developed some blood disease that I can't remember the name of that stops his body from producing new blood cells.

His family is taking comfort in that... he was gravely ill and this disease would have slowly killed him. Instead, the woods that he loved so much took him back.
But did it have to be right before the holidays? As my sis-in-law said in her eulogy today, she wasn't supposed to be burying her big brother today. She was supposed to be home preparing the Thanksgiving feast for tomorrow.

Oh, she's still going to do that, too. My sister offered to step in and take over, but she wouldn't hear of it. So she's hosting Thanksgiving tomorrow. The widow and son will be there, too.

Tomorrow is going to suck. But that's okay. I get that my sis-in-law needs that normalcy and needs her family around her. So I'll be there, we'll all be there. And we'll probably cry a lot. And eat turkey. We'll get through it because we're family and that's what we do, but forever more, Thanksgiving will be associated with this great loss.
And if all that weren't enough...

The funeral was held in my old hometown. This is a place I do not have fond memories of. I have memories of the Klan marching in our Christmas parade. Memories of my gay brother being assaulted by stupid redneck mother-fuckers. Memories of being bullied. I hate going back there.

And then... the icing on the proverbial cake... on the way out of town, we stopped to eat at the world's shittiest Mexican restaurant, and you know what happened?

This chick a few tables over stood up and vomited right in front of me.

I think that's it. I think that's all I have to bitch about. 

I just needed to get it out. 

Because I am not going to let these things define me. Be a part of me, yes, but I just refuse to let myself wallow (for too long). 

Thanksgiving is a day for blessings, right? And I have so, so many. I have this great family... full of issues, yes, but at the end of the day, we love each other fiercely. I have a job that is more than a paycheck. It's something I love. I have the best friend a girl could ask for. I have these amazing cats that make coming home every day a joy. I'm pretty healthy. I have a roof over my head, food in my belly, a car that gets me where I need to go, clothes on my back. I have full use of my limbs. A nice set of tits... lol. I can read, I have clean water. I don't live in a warzone. 

I have this man who loves every single bit of me. And a heart that is just so full of this beautiful man. 

I have so much more than so many people have. I am lucky, and I am blessed. 

And as I lie down to sleep tonight, instead of focusing on the bad, I will be thinking of those blessings and they will warm my soul and put a smile on my lips. A genuine smile. 

Because though life throws us some shit sometimes, it's still fucking good. Life is good.

Oh, and I have Cookie Butter.

Life is good.

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