Why I Hate Christmas - Part 2

It was Christmas 1995. My father had just been posted to a country town in Victoria (Sale for those of you  who are familiar with it).

We left Hobart when the school year ended and drove from Melbourne to Sale after crossing Bass Strait on the Spirit of Tasmania.

While the trip itself was relatively good the next 6 weeks were not.

The married quarter we were meant to move in to wasn't available until the beginning if February. That meant we were stuck in a motel for 6 WEEKS.

I mean hey, that could be cool! I was 11 so it was an adventure for me. The thought of having my own room while living in a motel was pretty wicked!! I was going to have the best adventures in the history of adventure havers!

We rocked up at the first motel (two weeks at this one before the four weeks at the one with the extra room for me!) We were absolutely dumbstruck when we opened the door.
The room was disgusting. Dirty was an understatement. My mother immediately began her tirade and we checked out 30 minutes after checking in.

We ended up at the other motel, spent three days in the double room and the rest of the 6 weeks in a single room.

Living with my parents in ONE room was torture. It was the most horrible experience. I mean my father farts in his sleep. And I don't mean little "fluffs" either. He let's these massive explosions erupt from his arse. How he still has his intestines intact I will never know.
Then there was his need to continue to sleep naked. Ffs, he could have TRIED to sleep with some pants on so I wouldn't be scarred. I tell you what, it's fucking horrible waking up in your sleep because someone is moving around and seeing your father starkers.

So anyway, this is about Christmas and why I hate it, not the many idiosyncrasies I had to endure during those 6 torturous weeks.

For one thing there was no Christmas tree. Fair enough there was not enough room for one, considering three humans took up a fair amount if the space. However, how was Santa meant to find me and lavish me with presents when there was NO TREE?!?
Please note: I had already established that Santa Claus was a huge lie told to children, but I was ever the dreamer and hoped that maybe there really was some magic out there.

I raised the no tree issue with Mother and she whips out (of a bag you dirty people!) this puny and ugly little tree. It sat on top of the puny and ugly little tv. I mean, seriously, how were my presents going to fit there?!?!?

Turns out they weren't because there was no magic and there truly is no Santa because I didn't get a single thing for Christmas. Oh right, other than the joy of living in ONE ROOM with my flatulent father and moody mother.

It was that horrible Christmas morning when I woke up and realised I was an idiot. That's a pretty big thing to realise as an 11 year old.
As I looked around the room I realised my life was shit, I was an idiot because I had hope and that my parents really didn't give a shit about me.

When they got up there was no explanation, no sorry for ruining Christmas and destroying my fragile 11-year-old ideals. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The day went on and I kept hoping that they were just going to surprise me and grab me in a bug hug, laugh and tell me they loved me! I kept that hope alive for three days. Then I little the flame burn out. They were not going to do anything like that.

So Christmas 1995 was when I realised I was an idiot, how much I hated my mother (that's a blog for another time), and how much my dad smells and drinks. I never knew until that Christmas that he drank at least two cartons of beer a week. A WEEK people.

Now let's take a look at Christmas 2009. I'm stuck with the two people who irritate me more than anyone else in the world. But I'm meant to love every minute of it because they are my family.

My father will be drunk by 2pm, my mother will be coming to me to bitch about my father drinking, then she'll go to him and bitch that I'm not listening to her. No doubt the heat will be terrible and I'll spend the day wishing I had any other family (preferably a loving one) than the one I have and contemplating the ways in which I can avoid being "present". So far I'm thinking of taking my sleeping meds and sleeping through the whole fucking ordeal.

So don't expect me to buy into this bullshit that people harp on about. Christmas is the loneliest time of year and I have two people I'm supposed to spend it with. Kill me now. 

In the Middle of a Dream...

I woke up with a very bitter taste in my mind. Yes, bitterness can be tasted by our brains. How do you think we actually decipher taste?!
Anyway, I had strange dreams again. This in itself is not unusual as my night time medication is known to cause some spaced-out-vivid-dreams. The only time I really pay attentin to these dreams is when they actually seem to have some kind of meaning to a situation in my life.

Instead of my usual angry-blood-everywhere-fake-movie-style-actionesque-dream I had an experience that really hit home. It was a very clear indication that something I had chosen to do in the last week was, in fact, the right thing to do.


Perhaps it might help if I explain a little bit of the dream.


She's sitting in the car, but at the same time she's reclining in the seat, almost laying down. Her back is to the driver. The window is open and she's playing with the feeling of the air rushing through her fingers.
She won't look at the driver even though he won't shut up. He just keeps talking and talking. She doesn't even know what he's talking about anymore.
He says something that makes her tense her entire body. She's not even sure what exactly he said. Maybe it was just his tone?
She holds onto the handle on the door, gripping it so tightly her hands hurt. She wants to be anywhere but with this man. He makes her uncomfortable. He tells her things she doesn't want to know.
Finally she hears something he says "You're the reason I wake up in the morning"
She shudders. This is not right. Doesn't he know that he's making her uncomfortable? Doesn't he pay any attention at all?
She pulls herself closer to the door, ready to escape.
When will this drive be over?
She just wants to be safe away from him.


The dream was like I was watching it, yet I could feel the emotions of the girl (me). Fear.
Pure and simple, fear. Debilitating fear. It was like being trapped, a caged animal unable to do anything other than what the captor wanted.
The feelings are still with me. It still scares me, but I know that dream is indicative of what I did feel and what I would have felt had I not done what I needed to do.


As cruel as this will sound, I am glad I listened to myself and not did "what was right" for other people.
No, this was about me and where I am in my life. Right now, I don't want someone who needs me more than I need them. Sorry, that's just the way it is.


Independence.


Who would have thought I would ever become Independent?