Its funny what you think about in the middle of the night.
Apparently my love language is gifts. I LOVE giving people things.
See, I grew up in a home that after 1st grade or so, couldn't give much of anything to each other, let alone anyone else.
I used to wrap up little toys and dominoes and stuff and pretend to give them to my toys. Then, when I hit high school my grandparents started sending me a $20 bill in my Christmas card. I bought ALL of my friends Christmas presents. I mean, they were terrible, lol. Goodwill and the dollar store. But I always thought it was the thought that count.
When I got a job, my goal became to get the best gift ever. Like, to bring tears to the eyes because it was just so perfect. That moment, the one where my friend would tear up and hug me because I knew them so well. Priceless.
When I was pregnant with S, my baby shower was my very close friends and and my sister. I was 19, and about to be a single mom. My family did not support me in any way. When my second was born at 24, again, no family, not even my sister this time.
And my 3rd? When I was actually married? Nothing. 4th. Nothing. It's not the gifts. Not at all. It's the lack of presence. No one came to show support. I felt like one of those little kids who had a birthday party and no one came.
So now I tend to over compensate. When I'm invited, or even not, I want to shower that mother to be with my love and support. Because I didn't have that.
Now, my mom is a jehovahs witness. Don't think this means she never gives gifts, not even close! She surprises us and they're amazing. It's more that I feel like I have to hide the gifts I give to my children for holidays or birthdays. Those moments used to be my time to shine. I used to feel so much joy picking out and making gifts for my family and so many others. Every person in our house used to get a stocking, adults included. And everyone got gifts. Everyone, even adults, used to get Easter baskets too. But now? Now I just don't see the point. I'm hiding the fact that I even celebrate these holidays from my mom. I don't get the joy from giving gifts that I used to.
I remember my last good Christmas as a kid. Turns out it was all thanks to toys for tots. When I got old enough to start donating to it, I did. When I married Eddie and we could adopt a family? Even better. I got to know I helped a family like mine, and no one ever had to know it was us. I felt like Santa. But somehow those things feel tainted now. Last year I sat and watched Jim Carrys rendition of the grind and sobbed my heart out. I miss Christmas. I miss Easter. I miss being able to enjoy birthdays.
I don't know how much imof my depressive leanings is due to any of this. Or due to the upcoming birthday of my son. The fact that I have to do math to remember how old he would have been. It's like an arrow to the heart. The answer is 9, by the way. He'd have been 9 next month.
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