I love the holidays. Love them. As soon as the holiday season starts, I'm hooked. I decorate. I plot Christmas gifts. I watch Hallmark and Lifetime holiday films ad nauseum. And I cry. A lot.
It doesn't take much. A sad moment on a cheesy Joey Lawrence film that starts the sniffles. A Christmas card. A photo of kids seeing Santa. Kevin looking cute in his new candy cane bandana.
Nothing feels lonelier than the holidays. I get to spend time with my family and friends, but there's just something missing. Some joy that I'm not able to access. I find joy in the little moments, but as soon as they pass the shadow appears to eclipse the joy. Where's the hope, the peace and the joy when I'm back home with my Charlie Brown tree and my television screen?
I'm trying this year. Trying not to feel lost and forgotten in the hubbub. But it's very, very hard. I don't really have anything right now. No improv. No singing. No nothing. Maybe that's why I'm doing St. Baldrick's. To be a part of something. To do something. Anything.
My friends are all just...gone. I'll get a call if they need something. And part of me knows it's probably time to move on. New friends, new place to live. I give it another year before I'm ready. Also, I have a lease.
There's a next thing out there. A solution. I want to do more than this wallowing. I want to stop feeling like I don't matter. I WANT TO STOP CRYING AT THE DROP OF A SANTA HAT. I'm crying right now.
This may just be the two Cheryl's cookies talking. I'm gonna go for a bike ride or something. Anything.
