the only words i said to my mother the whole time i was there were, "i'm not hungry." i sat there drinking coffee and watched my sisters open their presents. at one point, she randomly came up behind me and put her arm around me, and said "you made my christmas by coming this morning" with a cough-syrup sweetness in her voice. i got out my phone and started texting, shrugged her arm away. "i didn't come here for you," i thought. "i'm here for lauren." i drank seven cups of coffee and was speeding balls the rest of the time i was there. typical me. any kind of high is the solution to any problem. when i left with my dad and sisters to go home, she was crying. no one acknowledged her tears.
once i finally got home, i thought there would be a sense of normalcy, or at least a sense of relief once my mother was no longer an issue. but then i got a phonecall from an unknown number. "hey," she said. "it's me."
she wanted to stop by to drop "my shit" off. i told her fine. she showed up during dinner, texting me to let me know, and gave me attitude because i wouldn't leave christmas dinner to go outside. i don't know what she planned on doing once we were face to face, but frankly, i didn't care. and thirty minutes later when christmas dinner was somewhere in the sewage system and i was fixing my eyeliner, i felt an empowering sense of "fuck you."
fuck you, food.
fuck you, holiday gain.
fuck you, molly.
fuck you, "mother."
turns out "my shit" included not just my shirts that had ended up in her possession, but everything i've ever given her. every picture i drew, crumpled in a heap and shoved in a shoebox, a taped up mess. all the notes i wrote her. pictures we had taken together. the necklace i bought her. a ring i gave her, smashed flat. did she think i'd want all this back? what was the point of that? just to hurt me.
how do i know for sure? she kept my favorite shirt, and the first jacket i ever gave her, and the notebooks we used to pass back and forth. she hasn't let go. maybe somewhere deep down, she still cares. but on the surface, she's only trying to cause me pain.
surprise! i don't care enough anymore for you to hurt me. merry fucking christmas.
it really just didn't feel like christmas today. it felt like just another day, honestly.
hopefully seeing drew tomorrow. until then, framing hanley and slipknot will be blasting through my ears. today put me officially off the "happy music" kick.
not as horrible as i expected, but not how anyone would want their christmas to be either.
stay strong, think thin, live ana