My mom and I were walking around Boscov’s today and my stomach began to churn when I stepped into the holiday section and read the sign advertising how many days until Christmas – 43.
I want to throw up.
I am normally a very festive person.
I love the holiday season, especially Thanksgiving and Christmas.
I get really into decorating and celebrating and just look forward to spending time with my family,
and the cookies. Lord. The cookies. How could I forget the cookies?
But, this year, things are so different
and I’m not feeling very festive.
As a matter of fact, I’m feeling very much the part of Scrooge
and I hate it.
It isn’t me but here I am, miserable that the holiday season is among us and although we have a roof over our heads, it isn’t our home.
And while I know my parents will decorate and do everything they can to make us all feel welcome, it still feels…
not like Christmas is 43 days away.
I walked through the store wanting so badly to feel full of happiness and instead, I was just…
For the first time in my life, as the season of hope approaches, I don’t feel hopeful.
Instead, I feel defeated.