Holidays

"...the message of Christmas - we are never alone. Not when the night is darkest, the wind coldest, the world seemingly most indifferent. For this is still the time God chooses." Taylor Caldwell

Holidays....they never meant anything.  They weren't different than any other day. Not to me. My parents prepared food, decorated the house....had friends and relatives over.....did what was expected.  I don't remember ever getting gifts, or feeling special....or being happy.  I felt like I always did - different. My parents made it very clear - holidays were for others, for their friends, for the people they cared about. Not for me...because I was wrong, worthless, an inconvenience. Before anyone arrived, they screamed, they threatened, they cursed - I hid like I always did. I hid in the dark, alone, lost in my head...in another world...a world where no one hurt me and no one made me afraid. I sat in the dark....hearing the laughter, listening to the fun.....alone...No one cared.. Holidays meant nothing. 

Living on the streets.....strangers reached out...strangers gave me gifts...gave me money...smiled....tried to give me hope...tried to give me comfort. But I lived in my head....in another world....separate from people....separate from life....alone...feeling different. Feeling worthless...underserving. ....


It's different today. I want to make the holidays special. I don't exactly know how. We have a tree, with lights, and gifts - People have been giving us cards, presents and inviting us places. My girls are happy. I want them to feel holidays are fun celebrations. I'm doing the things I think are right...the things I think I'm supposed to do for them. I hope what I'm doing is right...because holidays still don't mean too much to me. They're still just another day...


I am looking forward to something though ....I dontated our time to help serve a meal to those who have nobody. Actually I donated the whole day because we're doing it at lunchtime and then again at supper. My kids think it's pretty cool. It's my way of giving back just like those strangers did for me once....when I lived on the street...when I had no one who cared, when I had nothing of value....when I lived in my head.

I've been given so much. But it's like Billie Holiday said, “You can be up to your boobies in white satin, with gardenias in your hair and no sugar cane for miles, but you can still be working on a plantation.”

I look at myself in the mirror...and see someone so different than who I was...someone who somehow overcame  hatred and dope and darkness...But when I close my eyes ..what I lived still lives inside...and in some ways it still affects me, still pulls at me - in different ways then it used to....maybe in ways that now I can use to give back and help someone else.