Here we are. Another Christmas. And I hate pretending that I’m happy and Merry and everything. Some years I just wish we could say everybody is on the naughty list and nobody’s getting a single present. I feel like that would just be easier. When you’re constantly on the edge, and literally everything of your being is keeping you from going over, is it really worth it? Having a partner who completely ignores any sort of mental illness, and having kids who are too young to understand it, really big is the question as to whether it is worth it or not. What are you get is lies, deceit, and frustrations from those around you, why are you here?
Christmas. The time of year that you’re told that everybody supposed be happy, and nice to each other. The time of year the people around you fail so miserably at the expectations that are out there for Christmas should be. Is it that they fail so miserably due to those expectations, or is it just worse because it is? I’d like to think a little from column A, a little from column B.
I lay here in bed on Christmas Eve alone in my house. I have put my children on my naughty list, and feel like I just need to escape. I feel like I failed as a parent, and some days feel like it would be better without me. The unfortunate trap is that if I just leave I’m never really out of their lives, but if I’m ever really out of their lives, I don’t actually see if it is better or worse. I feel like that is the only thing that holds me here. I hate when I have become.
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