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A brutally honest, emotional-humor deep dive into why Christmas is not a performance - it is a memory being made. Tender, funny, real, and healing. #christmas #holidayburnout #motherhood #emotionalwriting #longpost #healing #cyclebreaking #millennial #truth #poeticessay
The Perfect Iron: A Christmas Devotional by Julie Arduini
I was ten years old when Christmas bottomed out for our family. Although we didn’t give our situation a name at the time, alcoholism was destroying our lives one sip and forgotten promise at a time. The tension was palpable. I even remember our Peekapoo, Pookey, walking tentatively around the house, never knowing when yelling would start. We probably all walked that way. Despite the fear that…
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Ugh
Coming back home for Christmas is hard. My family suddenly woke up that everyone in my generation is an adult and started playing a merciless expectation and engagements game. And when your every I’m not interested is rebuffed with you need to go out there, sure there is someone special.
It’s hard to explain to them that in your mid- twenties, your best social and emotional achievement was to not punch an actress in the face, because she was an annoying, meddling cunt and it took real maturity not to rip her extensions off and strangle her with them.
Apart from that yes my dear uncles and aunts. I’m a fully functional adult. I have stupid students to torture and no it is impossible to have my job and a social life.
“A BOOK?!”
My Christmas Eve
7 year old me: *hears loud thud on roof* SANTA. SANNTAAAA! 16 year old me: * hears loud thud on roof* Shit we're getting robbed... 24 year old me: *hears loud thud on roof* SHINEE?
More Christmas Music We thought You'd come with a crown of gold A string of pearls and a cashmere robe…
So, I've kinda given up on the idea of Christmas being like you see in movies (snow, cuddling in front of the fireplace)
