The Diary Of A Misfit Kid

Christmas Day

December 25th, 2022

A day I don't usually look forward to, Christmas day. A day to join love ones, spend time together with one another, and opening gifts from one another. We all have one family member that loves to bring the drama into the mix, and one that can't stay sober long enough, but it seems the ones that battle depression and other forms of mental health issues. Today was one of those days that I rather just stay in bed with the covers pull over my head and let my beloved boyfriend deal with the nuisance that is my family, but for him I tried to be joyous and put my best fake smile on to go to my mothers for the festivities.

Something about me you should know now is that when I was seventeen, they admitted me into a psychiatric hospital due to suicidal ideation and depression. It was the worst ten days of my life, see when I was seventeen, I was dealing with issues about things that happened to me as a young child and my mother and stepfather weren't very helpful in dealing with these problems. I lived with my father for two weeks after a disagreement with my other parents. Well, more like a fistfight broke out, and I had my fill of dealing with the bullshit that was my brother and two parents always against me. Anyway, in the process of me moving out, my mother decided to sell the car I had been working my ass off to pay off for over two years to get back at me for moving away.

After living with my father for two weeks, they forced me to move back home with my mother after coming down with strep throat from being around my dad's smoking habits. Jump to Christmas Day of that year (2007) and we were opening gifts at my beloved great grandmother's house, and my mother hands me a gift with a smirk on her face, making me think there was some big surprise in there waiting for me. I had already woken up that morning with guilt in my stomach for leaving my dad high in dry when he needed me the most. When I opened the gift, my heart stopped in my chest. They lined the box with car seat covers and other accessories for my car. I wanted to puke on my Christmas socks. Why would they do something so low as to get me car stuff after selling my car? I remember my mom and stepdad's words still to this day, "Youll get a new car if you ever get off your ass and get a new job"

That night I tried for the first time to take my own life finally being pushed too far, so Christmas is never a fun time for me to be around the people that push me to the edge repeatedly.

Jumping back to Christmas of 2022, we arrived at my mother's house, of course, before everyone else because I can't stand the thought of being the last person there. You always become the butt of the jokes if you are. By the look on my mother's face, I know chaos had already started as she stood on the phone listening to my younger brother explain through slurring of words how he didn't want to come due to depression. I watched painfully as my mom searched for words to encourage her only son to come and open gifts with this dysfunctional family, and wondered where those words were for me all those years ago as I laid in a hospital bed begging for my young teenage life to be over. Our relationship is not your typical mother and daughter one. My mother was a young teenage mother, and we grew up together. Sometimes it felt as though I was the parent raising two children, my biological father and mother. When she got off the phone, she immediately started in on me how I needed to be more supportive of my brother and how I wasn't the only one that suffered with seasonal depression.

Little does my mother know, there is nothing seasonal about my depression. Christmas time just makes it a little heavier than other times. I kindly just smiled and nodded my head before looking at my boyfriend and seeing the confused look on his face. His silent question: Why am I taking the criticism for something I have no control over? I was born this way. We quietly sat on the couch waiting for my grandparents and brother to show, attempt to make pleasant conversation avoiding trigger words that would spark a fight like the 2021 Christmas where the cops were called. Does anyone else get this nervous when being around family or just me?

Finally, after hours of phone calls and basic begging, the grandparents and prodigal son made an appearance. We sat around and I nervously watched my family open their homemade gifts from me and instantly criticism hit, and my partner and I watched as they drowned my brother in gifts and praises. Though the smell of alcohol dripped off of his body. My stomach turned as the family slowly passed around their vape pens with their latest flavor of THC. Being a past addict almost ten years sober, it's hard to interact with the family when they are passing around pot or alcoholic drinks because it's still a trigger all these years later.

My partner and I quickly opened our two gifts and then watched as my brother spent the next forty-five minutes opening the rest of his. The same old jealous trickled through my blood as I watched me open each one, not saying thank you for anything. The same spoiled rotten kid, now a twenty-eight-year-old adult, sat there yelling and smoking, being the center of attention. He is my mother's favorite child and I am the one that is usually forgotten about on the wayside. I tried to keep my opinions to myself and do my daughter's duties with helping in the kitchen while my brother continued to open gifts. So many nagging questions in my head and heart for my mother and grandmother, but I chose to stay silent almost afraid of what would happen to me both physically and mentally if I spoke out about my hurt of the spoiled child a room away from me.

My grandmother decided to hit me with the same old question: when are you going to ever settle down? You ruined your chances of having children don't you think he should at least put a ring on your finger.

This is where the depression comes from and the anxiety too. Wondering when I will ever be good enough to meet my mom's and ma's approval and be worthy enough to not play the twenty question game of why I'm not where they think I should be in life. Until next time, dear journal....