The Day After Christmas

Dec 26, 20241 min read

As I had expected, this morning my mom confronted me about why I felt the need to leave for Christmas. I told her, bluntly, that I’ve endured seven bad Christmases in a row, and I just wanted to avoid having another one. Her response? That I didn’t have to keep it a secret and that I’d made everyone worry. But let’s be real—no matter how I’d handled it, it wouldn’t have gone over well. If I’d said something beforehand or left a note like I did, there was no “right” answer that would have made it okay. Her reaction wasn’t about understanding my choice; it was about making me feel guilty for it, as if my feelings were secondary to everyone else’s.

I tried to steer the conversation in a different direction and mentioned what happened when Archie opened the gift I’d given him. Instead of addressing how shocking his reaction was, she justified it by saying he struggles to regulate his emotions and wasn’t feeling well. Maybe that’s true, but someone should have said something to him—not just let it slide as another excuse. It felt like yet another moment where accountability got brushed aside.

Despite all this, I’m trying to stay optimistic. Sheila, Paul, and Evan are coming today, and I’m curious to see how the day unfolds.