Where Did My Christmas Spirit Go?
When I was a kid, Christmas was always magical. ✨
I feel like it was the only holiday I actually looked forward to, next to my birthday.
My family didn’t have much, but somehow, my parents always seemed to pull off Christmas for us, and my siblings and I got nearly everything we wanted from our wishlists.
We “woke up” at 7 a.m. on the dot. The first thing my siblings and I did was run to the tree. It was like a treasure hunt. We ripped all of our gifts open to the point where we were swimming in wrapping paper. We always got hella toys. Next, we would empty our stockings, then check to see how many cookies “Santa” ate from the plate in the kitchen — then proceed to eat the rest.
Breakfast was always exquisite; we had pancakes, sausage, scrambled eggs, toast, and tea or hot cocoa. We played with our toys, listened to our new CD’s, and tried on our new clothes. Then we’d take a nap. After that, we would visit relatives for the annual Christmas dinner, and open even more gifts!
(I used to be hella jealous of two of my cousins because their tradition was opening one gift on Christmas Eve before they went to bed. Just throwing that out there.)
It was always good to see our extended family under one roof, and we always had a blast. There was never a dull moment, and even though the food was the same line-up from Thanksgiving, somehow, the food just tasted 10 times better.
So what happened?
There are two incidents that come to mind that completely ruined Christmas for me. The first incident broke my heart. The second showed me just how evil people can be.
Christmas became *bittersweet* for me when I was 13.
Everything happened as usual: we “woke up” early, we opened gifts, we checked “Santa’s” plate. I was the last one to check my stocking that year, and for some reason, my mother was being extra aggressive about it. She kept urging me to check it, so I’m thinking there’s something extra-special that she wanted me to see.
And I was right…
But not in a good way.
When I emptied my stocking, I didn’t notice the “extra-special” gift at first. I was too excited about my new headphones, and I had my favorite candy in my stocking that year.
My siblings and my mother were laughing hysterically, and I was confused. Then my mother pointed to the floor…
I looked down, and a huge lump of coal was next to the rest of my stocking gifts.
Can you believe that?
That bitch gave me a lump of coal for Christmas, and I didn’t see anything funny about it.
See, my mother had this weird habit of alluding to me being a “bad seed.” She would call me all types of names ranging from “satan’s spawn” to “demon child.” And this had been happening for years on a regular basis. By this time, I already knew what it meant to receive a lump of coal for Christmas, and that’s when I knew, this bitch really hated me.
I’ll never understand my mother’s feelings toward me, but that instance will always stick out to me. She broke my heart. And you have to be a pretty heartless bitch to ruin Christmas for your own child. To deliberately go out of your way to make it known how much you hate your child, and then laugh about it with the rest of your children? I never quite looked at her the same again after that.
In the years to follow, she dismissed it as a joke, but she never apologized or acknowledged how she hurt me. She just laughed even harder.
And the second ruined Christmas?
When I was in college, I lived with my mother’s miserable bitch of a sister. Usually, she never bought anyone gifts, and she boldly declared that she wasn’t buying anyone anything like she did every year.
But this year was different.
It was my (Super) Senior year of college, and I had finally finished that semester. I was pretty happy about finally being done with college, and I was actually looking forward to enjoying the holidays with my family without having to prep for Spring semester.
When Christmas rolled around, do you know what my mother’s miserable bitch of a sister did?
So by this time, my other aunt, her “child” and her “child’s” child moved in with us. The miserable bitch’s daughter already lived with her. So there was six of us total under one roof.
Much to my surprise, the miserable bitch bought everyone in the house a gift — except me. And she made a grand presentation of it. She called out everybody’s name and passed them a gift, but didn’t have anything for me. Then she ignored me for the entire day. She didn’t look my way not once.
My other aunt noticed this and she quickly put together a gift for me in her room, but honestly, that didn’t make me feel any better. It was a nice gesture, but honestly, I wish she wouldn’t have given me anything at all. It was like pouring salt on a wound. I know she was trying to make me feel “included,” but I was essentially an after-thought; this same aunt managed to have everyone else’s gifts under the tree, but she “forgot” about me, too?
I don’t know what I did to the miserable bitch for her to do me like that. This was the same miserable bitch that I saved from getting evicted that year. I planned to spend the money I gave her on getting driving lessons, but since she was nice enough to take me in while I finished school, I figured my driving lessons could be put on hold.
There were other things that happened that, in retrospect, demonstrated her angst toward me; for instance, just a couple weeks before Christmas, she threw out the bouquet I got for my graduation. With no warning. For no reason. She didn’t even say anything. She literally waited until I asked if anyone had seen it. I feel like I should’ve seen the Christmas thing coming, but I never thought she would do that.
Like with my mother, I’ll never understand the miserable bitch’s feelings toward me, but I find solace in knowing that God is actively punishing her; she’s been sick for years and her doctors have never been able to pinpoint exactly what is wrong with her, even after several hospital visits, surgeries, and multiple medications. (God don’t like ugly, y’all.)
And don’t get me wrong — Christmas isn’t about receiving gifts at all.
I just have to wonder why people think it’s okay to use gifts or gift-giving as a weapon to hurt others.
I may never know why my mother and her miserable bitch of a sister harbor such ill feelings toward me. I mean, what can a child possibly do for an adult to hate them? It doesn’t make sense…
But after this year, I’m releasing those incidents and I’ll be filling my holiday with better memories and traditions. One tradition I want to start is VLOGMAS on Youtube. I’m still trying to figure out what else I wanna do…
But whatever I do, I’m just thankful that my mother and her miserable bitch of a sister are no longer a part of my life; therefore, they can never ruin another Christmas for me again. ❤️
