I hate December. I hate who I become in December. I hate the New Years resolutions, the fads, the presents just because of a specific date on the calendar, I hate the unpredictable weather, I hate the memories it stirs up, I hate school finals, the list could continue for awhile. I am a grinch this month and I can thank Ruth for keeping her shit together long enough to get me through at least 11 months out of the year but she throws a hell of a party in December and one that I wish I wasn’t the host of.
This is a time of year that causes anxiety, stress, and depression for so many of you (I mean it is quite literally referred to as “seasonal depression”) all in the name of gratitude and love for one another. This is a time of year where one’s energy is depleted as well as finances and instead of admitting how stressful this time of year can be, we shove our faces full of cookies and treats in the name of joy and gratitude. This month is one that for me specifically, comes with an overwhelming amount of horrific memories, and PTSD episodes. The clock turned on Friday the 30th to Saturday the 1st and my eyes shot wide open like a freaking horror movie.
There is a lot of reflection about how we can do better the next 12 months during this time and for some, it means bettering and improvement. For others it means being swallowed whole by memories, tragedies, and unavoidable pain. I, not gracefully, fall into the second category with a little push from Ruth.
This same time, two years ago is when I lost who I thought I always was. I lost my strength, my dignity, my ability to defend myself, respect for myself, the list goes on and on and on. I found myself drowning in an ocean of pain I created and the only life jacket I had floated away as I let him rip off my pants and assault me without so much as a fight. I closed my eyes and instead of fighting my way to air, I watched as my entire body sank to the bottom just begging for him to take my life instead of my vulnerability. I didn’t fight back. I let myself drown. The exact date is slowly creeping up and not a second of this month has been filled with forgiveness toward myself. Throughout the year, I am able to survive and thrive, hold my own against Ruth’s pettyness but when December hits, I would rather be on top of a mountain plotting a strategy to steal Christmas with my reindeer dog than face who I am in the mirror.
I have not become better-honestly more bitter. I have not grown from this experience and I have not attacked life with more strength than I did two years ago. I let myself drown two years ago and I have let myself drown every December since. I don’t wanna swim. I don’t wanna fight, I don’t wanna make some strengthened statement that its only the 3rd and I have 28 days to be better. Nope. I’m going to instead surround myself with anxiety and stress and eat loads of terrible foods just like the rest of you but instead I am going to be honest about the emotions and regrets I am facing. I am going to allow Ruth to have her party this month, celebrate her control over me. For this month, I will allow my vulnerability to exist without shame. Cheers to the family and friends who constantly support me and the growth I make in the first 11 months of the year but in the meantime, Ruth’s December reigns.