I’ve always hated December. As any SRA survivor will tell you, December brings some ‘interesting’ issues. Why, then, am I wishing December of last year had never ended? I dearly missed going to see my family-of-choice, and I’m working toward getting up to see them soon. Still, Christmas comforted me somehow, and lighting the menorah with some of my internal crew brought peace as well. I spent Christmas day with my best friend and his family, and it was nice to feel like I belonged.
Grief issues hit hard in December, another thing that bothers alot of people round the holidays. Maybe I feel like, since December is over and the new year has started, everything should be fine again. But it isn’t fine, no matter how much I pretend otherwise. Maybe I felt like I could let that show in December and that I need to appear perfect now. Maybe that’s why December comforted me– I could feel, unapologetically. I felt connected to the Universe as a whole. I felt held. Now I feel it’s time to put on the armour again and make sure none of the broken places show. In the earliest hours of the morning, though, I write in my journal that it’s December once again.