I have spoken about some shitty Christmases I have had in my adult life.
I think I left one out.
I have no idea where Saturn is right now but I feel like he is up in the sky doing the Hokey Pokey to the Song that Never Ends, yes it goes on and on my friends…
Once upon a time I dated a guy named Graham. He was so boring I am unable to conceive a nickname for him. And yet, for some reason, I was with him for 5 years. Almost had a baby with him and almost got married. I was the queen of what I should be doing-land at the time. I thought blue-collar dude who kept me home and calm was what I should be doing.
He drank a lot, hit me a little and wasn’t supportive of me in any way. I had a mid-term miscarriage and he went from looking at me like the sun shone out of my ass to barely speaking to me for 3 months. The checking out process of that relationship was a slow and arduous one. The final step was when Jesus came home from Montreal and we had coffee. As always with Jesus, coffee leads to cock. Before I fully cheated I packed a bag, called a cab and broke up with Graham. He cornered me in the bathroom and fed me punches till his brother pulled him off me.
But we have all heard this story.
There was more to it. I am feeling déjà vu. Just without the ultra-violent break up.
I was so stressed and messed up during that week, which was not long before Christmas …
On the first day of Christmas my (not) true love gave to me, a split lip which turned into the worst cold sore of all time.
I was staying in the basement of one of Jesus’ friends on a pull out couch with my hero. Crying and fucking and not sleeping much. He fucked me so good he jump started my period and by the next morning I was a bloody/crusty mess.
And he stayed.
And he looked after me, drove me to work and picked me up and snuggled me.
And he took me home to meet his family, this messed up puddle of a girl.
I forget that I am still valuable when I am not at my best.
I forget that even though it feels like the sky is falling that there are people who remember that I am not a broken mess of a girl who feels like a leper every day of the year.
2 jobs, stressed to the tits, not sleeping, not seeing boyfriend, stripping is like trying to get down the hall at school without getting tormented, I am walking on eggshells, bleeding, and just feeling like garbage in general.
It’s sharknado week basically.
And lo an angel of the lord appeared in the midst of the messiest messy mess.
The gods I pray to sent me a lovely reminder.
I got through that week with Jesus. I survived and thrived. I couldn’t have done it alone, I know this.
And I am forever grateful to him.
This time, I could have endured, but they saw fit to send someone to remind me that even when my light is so very fucking dim, I still shine really bright in the right eyes, almost blinding actually.