Growing up (now remember I just turned 30) there seemed to be three phases in my holiday experience.
Phase 1: best way to put this is summed up in two words. Blissful ignorance. Up until about age 12 my family (I’m mainly talking about dad’s side) was washed in a rose wash. I saw Christmas and other holidays through a child’s eyes. I was a kid. I didn’t see the fighting. I didn’t see the back stabbing outside of the fact that my cousin told on me for doing something. I didn’t see the hatred glares pointed at certain people. I just didn’t see it.
Phase 2: I was so freaking depressed that I didn’t give a damn. (Still on my dad’s side) cousins were just in black and white sides. The blessed ones (4 in the “loved” family) and us black sheep (the more studious, less athletic, more artistic, troublemakers). 8 in total. And if you didn’t have the “sainted” last name, you were basically second class citizens. Whatever. In my thinking, once the last grandparent passed, I was going to throw up deuces at the funeral and go about my way. Lovely fuck you and fuck the world mentality.
Phase 3: my grandpa has passed. I miss him greatly. I see the “wealth” he amassed being picked apart by vultures. My family have turned into backstabbing, money grubbing, vultures. I see his dream house being robbed by his own children because they didn’t get what they feel is entitled to them. I see people battling mentally with how to “handle” his wife, my grandma, their mother and how best to basically put her down, euthanize her.
Since I tend to live in the past, I don’t like this 3rd phase one bit. Phase 3 is hell. I don’t want to see my grandma die, no grandkid does. But I also don’t want her to suffer needlessly. Grandma is on the verge of needing a blood transfusion. Now needless to say my family is no stranger to blood transfusions lately. Dad’s had 2 in the past 5 years. Simply IV in plus Benadryl to help prevent a reaction boom done. She can be sedated and asleep for the whole thing. But the family member who choose it is medically isn’t wanting her “to suffer” through this. Because my grandma’s blood count is low she has trouble breathing and swallowing. How is her slowly suffocating to death the best way for her to pass??? I can’t see that.
I see all these 2 people worked for for 80+ years being fought over and thrown away and it makes me sick. I only want one item of my grandparents when both have passed and it was already stolen. It was the ruby gold cross to my emerald gold cross. My parents bought me a 1/4″ high gold, emerald cross one year for Christmas. I begged mom to buy a matching ruby one for my grandma because she deserved all the best stuff. One day I lost my emerald cross and was devastated. I was so upset. I was only comforted by the fact that my grandma had the ruby one and that I may eventually get it. 2 years later while doing laundry I looked in the drum of the washer because I heard something clink. In the bottom of the drum was my gold, emerald cross. I was so happy. But I was also saddened. I was already told that someone (a certain family member) had stolen what I wanted and that I was probably never gonna get it back.
Can you spell pissed?
That was dad’s side.
Mom’s side has basically 2 phases.
Phase 1: innocence. I was only 7-9 years old when that innocence was stolen. My cousin’s cousin molested me. I’m not going to go into detail (I may at a later date) but I changed before my 10th birthday. Remove semi-happy Sarah and insert get close to me and I’ll cut you Sarah. Now not to say that mom’s side is a bunch of saints but because we knew basically how to treat each other we were fine.
Phase 2: total disillusionment. My other grandpa has passed. My piece of crap “uncle” (married in) has cheated on my aunt (I was the first of the family to know, go me), divorced my aunt, lost his job in a rather comical coup, came running back to my aunt after new fiancé threw him out on his ass, became raging alcoholic after his son, my cousin overdosed on heroin and passed away (which I blame on him). My mom being diagnosed with MSA. My aunt going batshit crazy. And on…but we still had each other. No major fighting or backbiting.
We had mom’s side of the family Christmas in dad’s side of the family space that has been pick through by vultures, and I knew it’d feel and look different. I just wasn’t prepared for the emptiness of it all. In a space that used to hold 50 people, 10 people sat and didn’t have to yell at each other, didn’t have to physically restrain others and themselves from bodily harm, didn’t have to jump over one another, there wasn’t just standing room only. We weren’t cramped and we could roughhouse and play. It felt hollow. I laughed. I joined in on the play. But it wasn’t the right family at the right house at the right time. It was totally fucked from when I was growing up. I’m laying in bed now thinking about all of it and it still feels crappy.
I hate seeing things end. I refused to read the 7th Harry Potter book because I didn’t want it to end and this feels like the same thing. I usually don’t wish to be younger again outside of joking but this time of year I kinda wish I was 5 years old again. I kinda wish I still had 4 Christmas’ to attend, not for the presents but because I want to enjoy the people I love. I miss it. Truly I do.
bipolarlifeupsidedown 
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