Holiday memories

Reposting many of my older blogs from Myspace- Holidays

3/28/2009

I keep wanting to stop and head to bed, but I have these thoughts in my mind, theses memories. Like a stain on your clothes that you can not get out. I don't mean to skip times around but I will do that as the memory strikes me, so bear with me.

I grew to hate the holidays. I had always imagined theat the holiday's would (should) be filled with cheer and anticipation of al the upcoming event with family and friends. It became such a chore! Everything needing to be just right. I never had help with the Christmas tree, though the outside decorating became his domain from time to time. Heaven forbid I did not do something to his liking and there were times I did do the lights and decorating outside, like usual there was fault in that. One would ask why did I do things to irritate him if I knew that it bothered him? Things like that changed like the wind. It was a rollercoaster ride daily, not knowing if it was going to be good or bad. Something that bothered him one day maybe ok a day, month or season later.

I had always pictured when I was married, for my mate and me to be a team, helping every step of the way and having fun while doing so. He usually sat on a chair and supervised. It had to be done quick and he would usually find something to complain about. I loved to bake but the cookies almost a always turned out wrong. I started to hate the holidays, I envied other families that seemed to have it together. Other families that had gingerbread houses decorated as a family. Families that baked cookies together, families that ate meals together without the diversion of the T.V. Or even tree trimming parties! Holiday's were always a chore that I dreaded. Now some of these things sound harmless enough but living it and just reading this is two different things.

The seconds leading up to when the family arrived would be a bear! No one saw or heard what was said, but my STBX's Mom  would notice things, she would normally be the first one to arrive. She could see that I was hurting, or getting done crying. I am a terrible liar and she would see right through me, watching my facial expressions or reading me like a book, which is not hard to do. She would ask me if he hurt me or the kids and all I would do was nod or look down. I would beg for her not to say anything to him. Get his plate?! If I didn't I would pay for it later. He would give me a nasty look that would freeze ice and I knew I was in trouble later after everyone left.

I would joke with the family and most of the time he thought any jokes were at his expense even if it was a totally different reason for any joking. Anone that seemed like they were making fun of him would cause him grief, he would grill me why I never stuck up for him with whatever the drama was. Even if I hadn't heard the conversation there was always some payback tor words he would say to me. He always asked me to step in and mediate against whatever person ticked him off. Why did I never stick up for him is what he would ask.
I could not bring myself to stand up for things I did not believe was right. This stirs up a whole new topic!