Holidays just plain suck for me.
From the time that I was born until I was married, every holiday was spent with my mother’s side of the family either at my house or my aunts. I hated them ever since I could remember. I have 10 cousins. All of them are awful except for one. We have zip in common. Some are mean and downright hateful. Others are bigots. Yet I am considered the black sheep on my mother’s side of the family (blog for another day). The kids were always separated from the adults for the day because there were just too many of us to fit in any one place. No one was ever on my side. I was just told to suck it up, that it is only one day, yada yada yada. As I grew older, I had to help set up and clean up. But only the girls helped. Why is that?
Fast forward to holidays as a married person. I am an only child and so is my ex. His family never did holidays and our two families did not get along (imagine that). So, if possible, they were always spent with my parents (at least the big ones). My mother and ex do/did not get along (again, imagine that). So the holidays were nothing but stressful for me. Plus, the ex always ruined them one way or another. He was always sick, drunk, hungover, fake, or mean.
Now, I embark on my first major holiday “alone”. My parents are coming to my house so it will just be the four of us. I am already stressed. My mother, all by herself, does this to me. Ugh.
And now, I am feeling bad for the ex. Don’t tell me I am being an idiot because I already know that I am. He texted Sunday asking what places will cater a Thanksgiving dinner. First of all, how would I know? Wouldn’t it be better to google this? But he can’t figure out how to do anything because I always took care of everything. Anyway… I happened to be at a meeting and asked the group if they knew. They gave me some names and I texted him a reply. He continued to go on and on about how he is not celebrating, but he wanted a nice meal since he no longer has those anymore. See, he knows how to get to me. He knows how to manipulate me and prey on my humanitarianism. I am sure he wanted me to either a) invite him to my house (doubtful since he knows my mother would be present) or b) bring him leftovers. I did not reply. I took the high road. Quite impressive coming from the recovering people pleaser if I do say so myself, lol. But now I have been debating since Sunday if I should take him leftovers. I know I should not. If my mother found out she would berate me. If my son found out he too would likely be upset. I keep telling myself to remain strong (brain). But then my need to help people takes over (heart). But, would it really help him if I took him leftovers? No, it would remind him that I can still be manipulated. So, I am leaving this here on my blog to serve as a reminder to listen to my brain and not my heart.