It’s that time of year, when peeps everywhere get all happy and jolly. For me Christmas is not too bad. It was the one time of year when things were a bit better, perhaps because my dad was around to stop my mother’s awfulness, perhaps because she made it about her, thus supplying her extreme narcissism in a way that made it OK for us. It wasn’t a care free time, but if we were quiet and good and didn’t make a mess then at least it was better than normal.
Nowadays Christmas is more about what I have lost, and what I never had. My husband bought me a Christmas jumper at the weekend, and I cried, I’ve never had one before, he says that just sums up how awful things must have been.
I wish things had been different, and I am sad (and angry) that they were the way they were, I wonder all the time what I could have done to make it better, to make her different, to make her love me, but I don’t know if there is an answer to that.
On one day I ‘should have been a boy’, on another I wasn’t ‘a proper girl’, I’m not sure that I could have been anything, or done anything to make a difference to how she was, to how she is, but I still feel like I should have been able to figure it out, to make it better.
I just wish I could have fixed it, somehow.