This isn't me blogging about anything other than the fact that I face the Christmas Season with a mixed bag of emotions that I allow to get the better of me, and that I would like to improve my outlook on the Holiday. That's all. Just me knowing that I can do better, but never finding the strength to overcome the dread that comes with the Season... I do not think anyone would disagree with the fact that I was married to an emotional abuser for almost 10 years. We would buy all the lights, frills, and doo-dads to celebrate Christmas, but each Christmas was spent in a futile, pointles huge argument over nothing at all, except, maybe HP's ego.Holidays were alway hazardous when I was married. He always found a way to ruin them for me, and I do accept 50% of the blame as I always allowed him to ruin it. It's like Petey, said,"Those times always seem to come back to haunt us." As I said, I learned how to walk on egg shells, and come Christmas, I still find myself tip-toeing through the Season, waiting for it all to end. I'd much rather celebrate and be jolly, but as I cannot quite seem to pull it off. I thought maybe if I blogged about it, that I would perhaps be able to see the forrest for the trees and overcome & triumph over the Christmas blues. It has nothing to do with HP's infidelity, or anyone else's( it is especially not about Clinton's). It's just that I want to get a grip on my emotions and welcome the Holidays, like most folks do. I have every reason to be happy. I have friends, family, Bubba, dogs and rock 'n roll...why do I just want to cringe and hide out until life goes back to normal on Jan.2? I'd like to be a better me about the whole thing. I am just trying to work on just that...trying to allow myself to enjoy this merry time, instead of being caught up in a whirlwind of not-so-jolly vibes. Christmas with Bubba is sweet. He doen't make a big deal about it, but the whole thing bugs him as well. We always go to Wally World and pool our funds and buy movies that we otherwise would not spend the money on. This is how Bubba & I celebrate and exchange gifts. This way, there are no games played, no traps laid, no misunderstandings, no unapprecited gift echanges...this way we do something nice for ourselves, and like to spend Christmas Day watching movies, eating turkey, and spoiling our dogs. But neither of us feels especially jolly about it. Last year, we took our spare coin jar to one of those charity Santas at the Mall, and emptied every last cent into his kettle. I think that that was the best feeling either of us had felt about Christmas in years. We plan to make a smaller donation this year, as I fear tossing aside $60-$100 during this energy crisis may not be the most practical game plan for us. We will enjoy the season more, after we make the donation, whatever the sum. But as we have no children together, and I have none at all, I always feel something important is missing. Christmas is for giving, and Christmas is for kids. But, right now, I make less money than I have ever made in my life, doing a low-stress job that I mostly enjoy doing. I want to give my nephews and neice money for Christmas, so they can buy themselves something they really want for Christmas, but I am just not making the buck$ to be as generous as I would like to be...and I get all conflicted with my emotions, intentions and limitations. I spent 4 years trying to immerse myself in the Methodist Church in my nearby small town, and capture the Spirit of Christmas. They found plenty of things for me to volunteer to do to make the most of the Holiday, but the congregation remained distant and unapproving of me as Bubba & I have not married in the 12 years that we have been together. I did my best to be Christmas-like with the church, but something important always seemed to be missing. Egg shells, always egg shells. Puppy-please take me out of the contest for A BLOGSTREAM CHRISTMAS...I seem to have taken off on a different contest of my own...exploring the moody old gal that I turn into at this time of year. what is that cliche' about the unexamined life? I'm just tring to not come undone my own self in spite of myself, cuz I know that I ought to be able to do better. I will watch the contest with intrest, and do my best to celebrate. But I still have lots of self-imrovement to work towards, as I know that I have the ability to have a Merry Christmas, I just don't seem to be able to pull it off. Yet.

Please understand that this Christmas season, as at all Christmas seasons, I find myself filled with restlessness and dread. I do not blame this on my beloved father, mother, any old boy friends, ex-husband, or anyone, but me. I'm just blogging. I'm learning and reviewing the Ghosts of Christmas Pasts to try to understand why I feel the way I do. MokieJoe, cut me some slack-Jack! I know it's a two way street, and no, we don't need to have a long talk defending Dad's innocence. These entries are not about anything or anyone other than me trying to get a grip on my annual depression. Hey! I'm sorry you & Jan had to stick it out & it was tough on you while I went out & about adventuring and escaping the ugly realities of our folk's divorce. Please, don't try to make me feel guilty about getting out of Dodge-I have always felt guilty about it & need no further encouragement. Mo, I am just trying to identify and overcome the reasons why I cannot wait for Christmas to come & go, especially go. I am not bemoaning anyone or anything in particular, just trying to figure out why I have so much trouble and depression with each Joyous Season. And why I always ran away from home, looking for the happiness that I found only when I returned home, now, with Bubba. You don't really know this side of me, Mo-it is tough enough for me to understand me when it comes to Christmas. Look, Dad & Mom, fell out of love, it is as simple as that. He gave her liquor for Christmas, the last one that I spent at home, and she cried, and it was a terrible Christmas for all of us that year. Dad felt about Rene the same way you were starting to feel about the woman that you almost, but didn't, had an affair with..but this is not about them...this is about me, trying to understand myself and be a better person, and overcoming the land mines that I lay for myself each Holiday Season... Why I cannot relax, and enjoy myself for Christmas... I don't mean to offend anyone, and I really don't mean to bum anyone out, but Christmas always has been, and still is very hard for me. The relief I feel when it has come & gone is over whelming. Gimme a break...hang in with me...I'm working on improving myself, but I do have to work at it. Every one who know me on Blogstream knows my life has never been sweeter than it is now with Bubba. Yet, he feels the same way about Christmas, as I do, for reasons of his own, that I do not pretend to understand. It's all that I can do to understand my own self, and overcome this annual depression...I'm just blogging and flirting with some therapy here...that's OK isn't it? Y'all know how happy I am now, don'tcha? Well, there's still room for improvement, and once I started working on Puppy's contest, I found myself in the midst of some self-inflicted therapy, and that's OK, isn't it?

When I was 22, I lived in New Hampshire, and worked at Portsmouth Naval Hospital. I was very much in lust with one of my fellow hospital corpman, an Operating Room Tech named John. We moved into a small apartment off base, and tried to set up housekeeping. We were young and broke, and so we agreed not to participate in Christmas that year. We had the spirit, but not the finances. One day, walking the beach together, we came upon a beautiful, colorful pumpkin-size rock. I told John that since we could not afford a tree, and a tree was just a thing, as a rock is a thing, that we should take the rock home, and decorate it for Christmas. As you all well know, I've always had a soft spot in my heart for rock...So, this is what John & I did, and it kept cracking us up with laughter that we had decorated a rock for the Season. We had agreed not to exchange presents, and Christmas Eve, we opened the Care Packages from our respective mothers, and celebrated with those presents. Everything seemed fine. Later that evening, we went with a mixed gathering of enlisted folks Christmas carrolling to the homes of some of the officer's. The event had been officially planned in advance, sign-up sheets were posted at the Enlisted Men's club, and each home we were visiting had advance notice of our simple intent to spread Holiday cheer. At one doctor's home, we were all amazed when our host greeted us at the door with hot toddies, and a silver goblet stuffed with rolled up marijuana cigarettes. Some of us were under 21, and some of us did not imbibe. Others of us were over 21, and did. No one had expected such a welcome, and I had the strong feeling that the young doctor and his wife had already been celebrating, long prior to our arrival. Our host's surprise unsettled some of us, and delighted others. But one guy in particular just couldn't take things in stride... As it turned out, he was so blown away by the doctor's welcome, that that very night he went back to base, and went straight way to the Duty Officer and turned all of us, good doctor & carrolers alike, into the Naval authorities for "own good." Word traveled fast, and Christmas Morning, we all got 5 A.M. telephone calls from our superiors ordering us to immediately report to base to participate in in a thorough investigation of our Christmas Eve activities. John and I were scared to death, but quickly donned our uniforms and prepared to follow orders. Just before leaving the apartment, John helped me on with my coat, and as I turned around, he presented me with a small wrapped package. "Let's exchange our gifts right now," he said, "We're not going to feel much like celebrating later on today." "But John, we agreed not to exchange gifts!" I protested. "I know that's what we said, but we both knew that we would exchange gifts anyway," he answered with a broad grin. "No, John, we both didn't know that. Honey, I don't have anything to give you," I protested again, feeling bad enough already. "You don't?" He was crestfallen. He had been counting on me getting him something in spite of our agreement. I guess maybe I should have, but as it was, I didn't. His feelings were really hurt. So, here I am, stressed about our orders to report on our misadventures of the previous night, and now, here was John, pouting over my apparent misunderstanding of our agreement. He was sincerely, overwhelmingly disappointed in me. It was a crazy Christmas Day, full of official questions and angry officers, and meantime, every time I caught John's eye, I could see that he was upset with me, because I had gone and stuck with our agreement...I had not purchased him a gift. I cannot stress his reaction strongly enough. This honest misunderstanding actually bothered my young boyfriend to what I still feel was quite an unlikely extent. He not only fully expected that I would buy him something, he was genuinely counting on it, looking forward to it, and deeply hurt because I hadn't done it.What we had there, was failure to communicate; we were just not on the same page. In spite of our grave, official military surroundings, he kept throwing me these looks of sadness, even contempt. Nothing made any sense that day. It was an eerie, unpleasant, exhausting day, so much like a trip the Twilight Zone, and John still remained gravely upset primarily because he didn't get a present. He was just as mad at me for not buying him something, as the rest of us were all mad with the guy who turned us all in. The guy said he did it for our "own good" to save us from "turning into drug addicts." When we finally went home that Christmas night, John was still not speaking to me. It took forever to fall asleep that night. Under any other circumstances, I felt that we should have been offering each other words of comfort, encouragement and hope; promises that we would get through this, and tough out this weird situation together... But the situation kept getting weirder and John was just not speaking to me. We lay in bed, staring at the ceiling in silence, not even touching hands. The next morning I opened his gift, a sweetheart ring with a lil diamond chip in it. I was a cavalcade of mixed emotions. This was yet one more Christmas, where it was all too quiet, and I could not wait for the event to pass.

Thanks for everyone's inquiries and well wishes...yes...I have been uncharecteristically quiet, of late. Christmas is always a somber time for me. Many Christmases, it has been tough to just wait out the Season. When I was 17, my Dad gave my Mom several bottles of liquor for Christmas.He could not see what was wrong with his gifts, and she was downright insulted and humiliated. She cried bitter tears, and other than her sobs, that Christmas morning was the quietest in memory. All of us kids, watching the scene in stunned silence. I was exhausted from the night before, staying up until 2AM wrapping the gifts, as Mom was so far sunk into her depression that she just didn't have the energy for wrapping. About 11 that Christmas Eve, my younger sister, Kath sneaked into the wrapping room, and elbowed her way into the midst of the paper and ribbons, telling me that Santa would never do such a slipshod job of wrapping gifts, and she re-wrapped everything, much prettier than I had done, both of us crying, trying to save the Christmas for Mark & Jan, the youngest siblings. She told me that night that she had seen Dad's car parked at Rene's beauty shop many afternoons, for the entire afternoon. She claimed they were having an affair, and I clung to my denial, making her promise not to tell the other two kids her suspicions, and she shrugged it off, telling me that they'd find out sooner or later, agreeing it should not be on Christmas Day when they did. My denial flew out the window that morning, seeing Mom cry, and Dad acting innocent and angry. I left that next autumn to join the Navy and escape the pain at home. My next Christmas was in San Diego, and as I was working teletype & communications, 12 hours off, 12 hours on, and it just came & went without drama or joy, and I figured that that was OK. For all the years(7), I was in the Navy, my Mom always found the energy to send me a Care pkg from home. Using real popped popcorn for packing, with many little boxes inside of the big box,and always a big old bottle of cashews in honor of the many times she used to bust me picking all of the cashews out of a mixed can of nuts. I did not come home for Christmas for my entire tour of duty. My last Christmas at home, divided loyalties, and fear of drama, kept me away from home, kept me busy being busy, waiting for the Holiday to come and please go. But things did eventually change...one way or another, sometimes for better, some for worse...

why I freak out in stores...Daze made me really wonder why...food for thought...I'm really happy in my life, now, but often overeact & freak to the most mundane provacations. My Mom often asked me if my low self esteem was her fault, and as I only have good memories of our relationship-though, admittingly she was hard to please, her standards, high- I can not blame anyone but me. Even my abusive marriage...he was a jerk, but I allowed him to be a jerk, and clung to him even while drowning in his poisonous excuse for love. Regardless, my nervous system still finds me walking on eggshells all too often. Last week, when I picked up that fiber optic Christmas Tree, I turned my back on my cart& purse only long enough to pick up the lil tree from the shelf, and when I turned back, another woman honestly took my cart by mistake...she turned my purse in as soon as she realized she had it to the customer service desk. I was high strung before this honest mistake, just being in the crowded store. After I reclaimed my purse, payed for the tree, and returned to my car I shook & did self-induced anti-panic deep breathing for a long time. I relaxed my forehead muscles like Pop told me to do. You can telll that it helps. But why did I let the incident upset me to such a degree, I wonder. Why couldn't I just laugh it off? Why do I spend so much time, still, feeling like I am walking on eggshells and must please all of the people all of the time? is it addiction approval? Co-depenency, still? All of the above? I must practice to be a better me. Practice, practice, practice, to be a better me. Never-ending battle for truth, justice and inner-peace. Some days are better than others. Guess today might have been a little rough, but nothing I can't handle with a lil practice, practice, practice for probably the rest of my life. I know it could be worse. At least I am here, and not there, at least I know & recognize when I'm weak & need to work @ being strong. That's something I have learned the hard way.