Happy Boxing Day, where's my gloves?

Yesterday started as a rough one, but in the end it was a great one.  Being that I'm not a fan of X-mas, we don't celebrate and that suits me just fine.  But that doesn't mean I ignore the joy of the rest of my family who do find delight in it.  So, being that it's ingrained in me to make contact with family, I had to use that phone.  That little device I've been hiding from for over a month now.

That's where the obligation burden comes in.  I've never liked being told what to do.  That bratty teenager will try to do anything other than what's good for her or what other people say she 'should' do, but the adult picked up the phone and called family.

Troublesome in so many ways.

Got the hardest one out of the way first.  My father.  My lot in life was to have a deadbeat, druggie dad.  I got over it a long time ago, and now I feel like I'm the parent keeping in touch with a wounded teen of a dad who never seemed to escape his underdeveloped state of mind.  He's emotionally immature.  He looks for that magic wand and expects everyone to take care of him.  He got his wish in in a lovely woman, his common-law wife.

I adore her so much that sometimes I call because it's her I want to speak to, not my father.  She's delightful, but now she's ill with dementia.  The conversation with her was really confusing.  I couldn't understand anything she was talking about.  It saddened me that such a wonderful person has withered away.

My father is now forced to grow up and take care of someone.  He's doing his best.  But I feel so sorry for them both.  They're having some bad luck thrown their way and unfortunately, I just don't have it in me to feel for him while I'm going through my own madness.

Then I called my father's sister.  She has always been a good person to talk to, but I haven't been able to pick up the phone with her because I know with her I'll break down in my honesty.  Sure enough, there I was blubbering about losing my wife to an unknown 'male' being.  I explained to her why I haven't been calling: I don't want to cry.  Every time I speak about 'it' I cry and my mission in this journey is to see how many bone-dry days I can muster for these sad eyes.

Poor thing had to listen to my very near hyperventilating and hinting at finding my peace by not being on this planet.  I explained that I just don't know who can actually handle my insanity and who I can trust with it.  That's why I don't pick up the phone.  Who can listen to someone with such tortured words?  It's like they're watching a hawk circle it's prey and all they want to do is save that sweet innocent bunny, but in reality they know that ruin is inevitable.

I stiffened up and changed the subject to stop the torrential downpour and grant my aunt to carry on with her lovely day.  I really hope that she let go of my words and had a light heart full of smiles on her X-mas day.  God I hope she enjoyed herself.  If she didn't, I'll feel so terrible.

Time to call my mother.  All I do is cross my fingers while that phone is ringing.  I will her to pick up the phone before her creepy homophobic husband does.  And hooray!  I got my wish.  That's enough of a X-mas present.  It was the obligatory call where I don't have much to say, especially after a sobbing episode that left me drained of all personality.

It was a nice easy call.  Simple.  I gave thanks to her for those goddamn tarts and cookies I gorged on that were part of the reason my pants are tight this week.  She's such an amazing cook, damn her.

I left the best for last.  My awesome sister.  I love her so much and I enjoy calling her because she's the only person I don't have a chance to talk about 'it' with.  When you call her house, you really only get 2 minutes of a conversation in before she starts yelling at someone: kids, dog, cats, husband, all of the above.  Then you try to carry on with your hello after this initial scream session and in the background you'll hear siblings fighting, pressuring my sister to yell at them so that she can hear what I just said and then it circles back to the start again.

There's so much chaos in that house!  I don't know how they do it!  But it's an interesting dynamic.  They're all used to communication by way of yelling.  It's a comedy routine.  They all love each other and show it by screaming, almost like they're a stereotypical Italian family yelling and using their bodies to express themselves.

I love calling her because all I do is giggle at the unruliness.  I don't have to talk about 'it' because there's no chance.  So I call her as much as I can to be distracted and hear her voice.  God I love her and her family.  I just love them so much.

My X-mas frolic started at 4:30 pm when Papi woke up from the graveyard shift pass out.   We went out for our day of celebrating by gambling and taking in a movie, 'The Fighter'.

Fitting, isn't it?

(**Well, here's the good**)

I won $80 and was proud of myself.  Did a little chair dance every time the machine sang that 'hello gorgeous, you've won' tune.  I stopped when the going was good.  Played it safe as I always do at the casino.

Then came the movie, which is perfect for this journey.  It made me remember those few years I was training to be an amateur boxer until my knees finally gave up on me.  I love boxing movies.  My love told me I'd have been a great scrapper if I was ever able to make it into the ring, but I should stop picking fights in elevators, because I don't have gloves anymore.

(**Here's the bad**)

The drive to get to the festivities was a little emotional however, as Papi wanted to talk about 'it'.  So there I was sobbing in the parking lot at the casino, speaking my honesty and having my love hint towards the possibility that if I can't get out of this hole, maybe I should go to that place where the crazies go.

(**And now the ugly**)

Great.  Now I'm so fucked up that my soul mate is threatening to send me to the loony bin.  Merry fucking X-mas, here's your straight jacket.

Then things got easier because Papi gave me a little happy pill.  We went in and enjoyed our time together.  I won money, my love lost everything.  We smiled and laughed, ate really bad fattening food and came home to lie together and just look into the eyes of one another.

No words needed.

Just love.  A perfect ending to the one day of the year that I despise.  And now it's over and I can get on with my life for another 364 days.

Oh god, do I really have to?

(**Sigh**)

Here I go.  I hope 'you', my imaginary friend, had a great day yesterday.