I cried and cried. In the shower, listening to lana del rey, ‘video games’ to be exact. “It’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you” lyrics mocking me. It’s Christmas day. I manufactured perfection. The tree was lit. The coffee was brewed. A Christmas story was on TV. I let him sleep in. I made breakfast. A good one. Bacon, eggs, sausage biscuits, bagels, orange juice.Once I heard him stirring…I woke him with kisses and caresses, a cup of coffee in hand. I love you. Merry Christmas baby. We’re good. Nothing’s wrong. I manufactured perfection. I’m making Christmas memories. I am making up for last year when you left me saying that my cancer wasn’t your problem. I’m having a moment of happiness. Everything is fine. There’s nothing wrong. And then you snap…I asked you to help me take a picture of our dog with a Santa hat on. I am feeling silly. I am having fun. I am making Christmas memories. And you are yelling and frustrated and telling me how stupid it is and what a waste of time it’s going to be and I ask you “Where else do you have to be? What else do you have to do in this moment?” You have no answer. I begin to cry. You can’t stand to see me happy I think to myself. Your insides are so rotten and worn that you can’t stand for me to have a moment…a single moment of happy. I feel crushed, like an insignificant insect. and I am crying, on Christmas day, because after showering you with breakfast in bed, affection, gifts and joy….You are yelling at me because I wanted a picture of OUR dog in a Santa hat. You can’t let me be happy. Ever. I begin to cry because THIS Christmas day is different. This Christmas, I am not in fear of dying from some disease spreading throughout my body. I am not on medication to deal with the stress of losing everything. This Christmas, I am ME. I am strong. I take a moment to cry in the shower at the loss of you. I am through with you, with your misery. It’s company I no longer wish to keep. I cry and cry because I have found ME.
Published by christiepage "pando pandemonium"
Confessions of a mad mind~ Author of A Practical Guide to Forgiveness from an Impractical Survivor, Oh Go Fix Yourself and She was the Stuff of Stars, Christie Page was born in Falmouth, Massachusetts. She lived in the Nobska Point Lighthouse with her mother and father who were stationed there as a result of his service in the Coast Guard. Shortly after the family made their way to West Palm Beach, Florida where she grew up continuing her love affair with the ocean. She has two children Joshua 26 and Laura 24 and currently resides in South Florida. In 2015 Christie left her twenty year medical career to pursue her passion for writing full time and has been featured in the world’s largest mindful living publications including Chicken Soup for the Soul, elephant journal, Sivana East, Thirty on Tap and The Urban Howl. She was also a feature columnist for Controlled Chaos magazine. An active yogi, hoop dancing enthusiast and self-proclaimed whiskey chick, she is a third generation breast cancer survivor, recovering anorexic/bulimic and is on life six or seven of her nine lives. She has been homeless and sheltered, rich and poor, loved and hated and believes her experiences have lead her down a path of spiritual exploration and awakenings. Christie wishes to share her journey with others in an attempt to come to peace. She writes to clear space from the rolodex that is her muddled mind. Christie View all posts by christiepage "pando pandemonium"