I mean sure, when I was a tiny baby I used to love the season, all the flashy lights and the cheesy mascots, the toys, but as I got older and, as dumb as this sounds, found the actual meaning of the day itself I grew to despise the season. The day is fine, I love my family and they're fun to be around, but my qualms lay with the rest of it.

The obsession with the season, the buy buy buy mentality, the capitalism of it all, and how deeply the rest of my family fell into it. For my family, they'd start celebrating in August if not for me. Fucking??? August??????? I could never wrap my head around the fact people start that early for just one day. I compromised with them to start just after my birthday, which is still absurd to me but it's what we could agree on.

We also stopped celebrating Halloween a long time ago because "you're all grown up, get over Halloween" ?????????? What??????? When I turned twelve everything Halloween just stopped entirely, I wasn't allowed to dress up anymore, no trick or treating, I had to be invited to do anything related to the day by someone else.

What do we do with the day instead then? Oh, wonderful question my dearest reader. Decorate for Christmas. Yeah... That's what my family does on Halloween.

Worse yet, if I bring up to someone I'm not very fond of the holiday instead of getting any "oh, I disagree but I respect your opinion" or any iteration of that, I get; "well what's wrong with you? You must have such a sad life. You don't have any whimsy at all. Such a Grinch." First off motherfucker I have whimsy, sorry it's not flavoured like Santa Claus ate a Christmas tree and shit into a gift box. Second off shut the fuck up????? What's it matter that I don't like the holiday??? I'm perfectly happy without the season.

I’m going to be ok.

The racing thoughts in my head all have solutions. When I feel like this, my brain picks my absolute worst memories and replays them over and over. At some point, my self loathing became an entity in my mind; it’s like having a monster made from all past experiences living in my head and deciding what I can remember clearly that day. Usually bad.

On Thanksgiving when I was a child, I was molested. Not just then, but memorably. I’m not sure when it started but it continued until that particular family member died. At the same time, I both dreaded and adored holidays because of the family gathering, the food and the inevitable presents for the eldest and for a while only grandchild/ godchild/ etc on either parent’s side. My mom is a spectacular entertainer and made some of the most beautiful tables I’ve seen or tasted in my life for up to 40 people on Thanksgiving and every other holiday. It was amazing and I loved to help.

I felt fine on Wednesday night, but on Thursday when I woke up I went into a string of panic attacks punctuated not with fond scenes of the good things that happened on those days but the very worst. My dad passed out on the sofa. The time my uncle threw my brother across the room. Being secreted off to a dark corner behind a locked door to confer with an adult. I always left with a cash present and a script to deliver about what we had talked about.

It amazes me that there are people in the world who don’t think like this. That the sight of their beloved dog with their uncle’s equally beloved rabbit dead in his mouth doesn’t flash before them when they’re trying to fall asleep. Other people get to wake up without an abusive voice ringing in their minds ear, preparing them for the day with a dose of fear and aggression. That I have to work so hard just to put out the happy face makes it a badge of honor. I can’t bear to be seen when I don’t have the spoons to be jovial yet sassy. 

This year I just skipped the holiday completely. I felt The Nothing, I took a whole dose of Klonopin (I normally take 1/4 of a .5mg) and went back to sleep. That would have been fine, if I’d had the wherewithal to let the fine people expecting me at a dinner know that I’d had a total implosion at 9am and there was nothing I could do about it. I still haven’t because I feel like such an asshole. 

she telling hella stories... mouth full... exercising ALL THE NERVE... smacking on some shit I ain’t eatin’... tuh.