Bah Humbug

I posted on a board I frequent for empaths and asked for some healing prayers and uplifting thoughts. The response was overwhelming and I was so appreciative. I do believe in the power of prayer and positive energy direction. That said, I’m still just not there. I’m joyless. The only sparks of joy I experience are when I watch my children interact and then occasionally when my husband has a rare moment of relaxation and he gives me one of his boyish grins and tells me I’m beautiful or how much he adores me. Other than that…nothing.

I’m not finding joy. I’m trying hard. I’m trying to dig deep and remember why Christmas exists. I’m trying to see wonder through my children’s eyes. I’m trying to be mindful of the millions in need. I’m trying to have a servant’s heart. I’m trying not to be jealous of those who have much and so much that they brag. I’m trying to count my blessings. I’m trying to appreciate what I do have. I’m trying to love more on my family. I’m trying to overcompensate. I’m trying to do everything but feel sorry for myself and down in the dumps. I’m trying to pray more, believe more, love more…

But the truth is, I’m failing miserably.

This is the 3rd Christmas in a row that my husband has been laid off before the holidays. This is the 3rd Christmas in a row with financial stress and lots of uncertainty looming over our heads. The added factor here this time is that the house we’re renting is going into foreclosure and we have to look for a new place. We can’t secure a new home with DH unemployed. The job offer that was supposed to be coming hasn’t arrived yet and the company has been so non-responsive/communicative, we can do nothing but assume that it won’t come. On that note, I wish that they had never made any promises. It would be much easier to bear.

Christmas will be “fine.” We have plenty for the kids. They don’t want for anything. Blah, blah, blah. I’m sure I can spin this into positives, lessons learned, new tricks to be happy, but I’m just not feeling it.  I get updates to this stupid spreadsheet my husband’s ex sent out detailing Christmas gifts for my SS. It actually makes me want to vomit. I had to just ban myself from it because it makes me so utterly angry for reasons I can’t quite communicate in writing.

The mood in the house is subtly oppressive. There is a dance of tension. There are bubbles under the surface of my husband’s skin. It feels dark and suffocating. I’m just tired. Tired. Very tired. I’m at an exhaustion point. I feel the need to take care of everyone and manage everyone. I’m sure the first piece of advice I’d get is to stop managing everyone. If I don’t though, everything falls apart even more. At least in managing and holding up the energies, things are more bearable. When I start to fall apart, it gets worse. It’s as though my mood is the center of the home by which everything and everyone reacts and behaves. I’ve even run experiments with it.

I’m just over the whole Christmas thing. This time of year is starting to represent oppression and frustration, the exact opposite of what it is supposed to be. And maybe God is breaking me of thinking of anything material. I don’t know. I’m just disappointed. Every year it has been something. EVERY FREAKING YEAR!

I need something. Seriously. Some glimmer of hope.

Before this turns into a big whine fest (anyone have any cheese?), I will say that I did find some joy caroling yesterday. Singing is in my soul. I got to share that and I had a really nice time singing some of my favorite Christmas hymns. I guess I need to hold on to that. Hold on to the beaming faces of the elderly people whose hearts we touched. Hold on to the looks of wonder on my older child’s face as he stares at Christmas lights or gets to watch “Star Wars” with his dad. Hold on to the bright smile my baby gives me when I get into his view. It truly can be the little things that save us.

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