Through the eyes of a fat chick

Is there anyone else out there that just doesn’t handle this time of year very well?

Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing the happiness that Christmas brings to everyone’s families. And the smiles, excitement and love on the kids faces. I love watching old Christmas movies, and seeing the neighbourhood lights, and decorations.
And whilst I know my kids won’t see too many presents, or have a massive feast, they will still have a great day, and feel love and warmth surround them.

However, for me, and my fucked up, depressive brain, it brings with it a deep entrenched feeling of hurt, inadequacy, failure and loneliness.

An overwhelming loneliness that I can’t describe. I can be in a room full of fun, love and laughter, and feel so endlessly alone, and sad, so alone that it physically hurts deep down inside my chest. I struggle to fake a smile and pretend life is just peachy.
No matter who I’m with. Desperate to feel someone wrap their arms around me and just hold me while I sob uncontrollably.
Just hold me.
But also desperate to be alone, and to not have anyone around me. I can’t deal with outsiders while I’m like this.

These feelings I’ve convinced myself aren’t picked up by others. I try my hardest to hide it, even with the feeling that I might just self implode to a cavern of sadness.
There’s an irrationality to it.
Surely my life is nowhere near what I’m internally convincing myself that it is?
I’m not sure why I feel this way. But it happens each and every year at around this time.

Internally crying and desperate to have Christmas over with. To put behind me the stress, and feeling of unlovable failure that I convince myself that I am. No matter how untrue it may be. I’m at the point where I’m scared the cashier at the supermarket will generically ask me how I am, because if they do, I’ll burst into tears.

This year has again been tight for us. Covid has seen us struggle harder than we ever have before. Bankruptcy was on the table not to long ago. There’s been times where I’ve not known if we’ll get through or not. We will, somehow, we always do.

I used to love Christmas as a kid. But it all changed back in 1989 when I went to my Grandfather’s house to give him his present, only to find him dead in his bed. I’ve really struggled to find any joy in Christmas since.

But as difficult as it is for me, I’ll stand up tall, fake a smile and plod through. Somehow.

Because this is the side of Christmas that people don’t talk about. No matter how many people feel as helplessly low, unlovable and alone as I do.

It just doesn’t fit the narrative.

And so I plod along, and battle through the irrational demons in my mind.

Merry Christmas 🎄