Disassociating is my toxic trait. A coping and survival mechanism I adapted as a child, became my go-to Emotion Weapon later on. It aids in the avoidance of feelings of hurt and betrayal, which can be good, but it also makes it challenging for me to maintain friendships. That said, it is 1000% what is keeping me afloat this Christmas, away from my babies. Of course I truly am busy. There’s much cleaning and organizing and tidying to do. Time is a construct, Maddox will never remember. Scarlett and I will have our own “Christmas” when she comes home Sunday afternoon…

But I’ll remember, you know?

I’ll remember rolling over to an empty and quiet bed. I’ll remember closing my eyes and picturing Scarlett’s face when she opened the presents I didn’t get for her. I’ll remember reaching for her blanket to pull over my head and reassure myself that whatever this is, whatever this feeling is, isn’t the end of the world. So I made the most of my morning by packing up hot coffee and exploring my neighborhood. I laundered and folded and scrubbed and stacked and shelved and hammered (much to my neighbor’s dismay) and it was all of that, and my dissociation, that kept me Doing That Thing With My Feet, one in front of…

I know that one of these days, I will be forced to be still when my babies aren’t here, and I will have to acknowledge the too-quiet rooms and the emptiness in my gut when they’re away from me. I know that, while exciting, I will cry when all the walks and reading and cleaning and working doesn’t distract me long enough and You Are Alone shouts through the space between my eyes.

This isn’t a sad story. There is sadness, but there is so much hope. There’s sad and hope and excitement and newness and questioning and eating trail mix naked in the kitchen and hanging things where I want them and love and a type of joy, and a sense of pride, that are new to me entirely.

Okay? Disassociation today, hope tomorrow.

Merry Christmas from me and my meat and cheese plate served on the finest of paper China. I’ll catch y’all in the new year.

Don’t you hate when people say that?

All my love,

A