Christmas Day Defiled

Facing myself

I can usually accept the isolation and loneliness of the pandemic. Working at PIH helps me feel that I am doing something positive during these bleak times.

Yet, I have experienced post traumatic stress and the end of year holidays are a huge trigger for me.

The Christmas of 2020 swept in overwhelming my mind and deactivating my body. Despite having the much needed and precious time to get things done around the house, home projects and even cooking, my body was metaphorically superglued to my couch watching reruns of Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix.

The superglue was very strong! So much so that my poor now three year old dog named Sugar somehow was covered with it too. She could not leave my side on the couch either. Of course the effectiveness of the superglue had some help by the howling winds, torrential downpours and dark gloominess of day and night. My pup does not DO rain. Gleefully, she also did not poop or pee in the house either. She just was. I think she sensed my abandon to woes, sad memories and the grief from the loss of loved ones during this twelfth month of 2020 anno domini.

What I noticed when I would move were the self-depricating words and thoughts that I expressed. I was like a bird in a windstorm taking on the rain and wind with my hair blowing back away from me, my face flattening to the gales. Self-disgust was on full display flagrantly filling the sound of the room when I paused Meredith’s life on the flat screen. The words were not nice or kind. At that moment, I didn’t care.

The next day, the weather became mild, and I had to work at PIH, Work calms my inner and outer self. I also realized how much harm my diatribe causes me. Currently, I am my only me, myself. To hear such verbal violence comes from a child hood in a home where these tirades were like a recording that’s on constant repeat. I made MY home into THAT home on Christmas Day. Truly that is sacrilege.

Therefore, I will make every effort not to allow this destructive state to occur ever again. To start with, I aim for 2021 to be free of verbal self-harm. No more self-hate talk!!! Such rancor may have been the constant soundtrack to my life many times. I declare those times to be OVER and plan to be somewhere doing something fun on the days that typically difficult in the new year.

About BigBalloonReadyToFly

I often feel like a balloon ready to fly off this big blue marble! I openly write about depression and post traumatic stress. Born & raised in NYC from a Costa Rican family. I have ongoing medical condition that has caused me to experience 50+ bone fractures. I stopped counting at 50. It's called Osteogenesis Imperfecta. I attended a school for the disabled prior to mainstreaming. I moved to Boston in 1983 for college and soon after became involved in local union and community politics as well as a peace activist. My high points have been my marriage, my step-motherhood and re-connecting with my Papa as an adult. Since 2004, I have experienced much grief due to the deaths of my stepsons and parents. I am a witness and survivor of the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing. I write prose and poetry in both English and Spanish. I live with my dog Sugar in Roslindale, MA.
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