Today Is Just Like Any Other Day

I’m sorry this one is going to be a longer read – please stick around until the end!

The Holiday’s are basically here. Houses are starting to be adorned with lights and decorations. Christmas trees are going up with beads and ornaments with piles of presents beneath. Everyone is shuffling around with a little more pep in their step. The snow on the ground is light and fluffy, the winter beverages in coffee shops are hot and fragrant, and family and friends are coming together. All of these things really give this time of year a feeling of magic and wonder. Many would say that the Holiday’s are the best time of the year. I on the other hand can’t quiet help but feel the bah-humbug-bug. 

I know I should focus more on what I do have. I have a wonderful and loving husband. I have the beautiful blessing of own our own home and having a roof over our heads. We have the ability to buy presents for family. Also, not to mention that at this point in my life I actually have so much love and family that at times it is over whelming. I am undoubtedly incredibly blessed beyond belief. My life has done a complete 360 since I was adopted and then another 360 since meeting my husband and getting married. I have so much in my life to be grateful for but the Holidays are the time of the year that I can’t help but mourn. 

I don’t want to be the ultimate downer but the Holidays seem to put me in a perpetual funk. Starting in November all the way through the beginning of February I tend to be a little, well, crabby. I attempt to stop and “smell the snowflakes” and join in on the Holiday cheer but my mind can’t seem to stay away from everything I’ve missed out over the holidays. I’m not talking about not getting the Christmas gifts I wanted, having to work on Christmas, or missing out on parties and events. I’m talking about Christmas as a foster kid. 

As I sit here, just writing down the line “Christmas as a foster kid” I instantly felt the wash of shame come over me and I can’t help but to tear up. Years in foster care are hard enough but throwing the Holidays in is a new level of trauma and emotional scarring. Imagine being ripped away from your family and being so incredibly homesick that you can hardly get out of bed. Now it’s Christmas and you’re surrounded by people you hardly know, a family that isn’t your family, in a house that isn’t your house, with a Christmas tree that isn’t your tree, and with ornaments that aren’t the ornaments you made in grade school, and not a single present under that tree is yours. Try to explain and rationalize all of that to an 8, 10, or even a 12 year old kid. Every year I relive the pain of the holidays – now more than ever since I’m estranged from my biological family and have cut the toxicity out of my life. 

I vividly remember waking up Christmas morning in one of my foster homes and feeling dread and a sorrow so heavy it had me pinned to the bed. I was around 11 or 12 years old and I hadn’t seen or talked to my parents in over a year. I couldn’t have told you the last time I’d seen anyone from my own family. I could hear the whole house awake and frantically prepping as I lay in bed. I brought the memories of my families faces to my mind. Daily I tried to push away the thoughts of them for fear that the pain would take over and I’d never be able to get it all back in – much like squeezing the tooth paste out of a tube and trying to put it back in. But this one day of the year I would think of them and remember them. This one day of the year I allowed myself to think, to remember, and to feel. Carefully building their images in my mind and holding them for a moment but only a moment before I knew I needed to let go. Tears rolled down my face and dripped onto my pillow. The Christmas music playing full blast drifting down from upstairs seemed to mock me. How could I be so miserable and those around me so full of light? 

Once I had hollowed myself out I successfully dragged myself out of bed. I was repeating a mantra in my head of “Today is just like any other day. Today is just life any other day. Today is just like any other day.” It used to be the only thing that held me back from making any cruel remarks or acting out. It’s just one stupid day to get through. 

The whole day would pass in a blur. I’d sit at the dinner table with someone else’s family. I’d watch someone else’s kids and grand kids open their gifts. I’d watch as they posed for pictures. I could feel my heart shatter as a mother held her son in her arms and planted a huge kiss on his cheek. I’d bite the inside of mine, hard, to keep the tears from welling in my eyes. The day would pass, just like any other day, and I’d be watching it go bye like watching a movie. This was not my family or my life and it did not belong to me to partake in. I’d smile and join in on conversations to keep appearances and to not bring down the whole house. After all, for these people it certainly was NOT just another day. 

The house always eventually wound down and everyone left at some point. I’d always be grateful the moment the last person left and the chores were done because I could be alone again. I’d go through the motions of getting ready for bed. Once in bed I’d once again bring my families images to my mind. This time I’d kiss them all good bye before wishing away their images. I’d bring all the other things I missed about Christmas to mind too. I missed my mom’s monster cookies she made every year because they were my brothers favorite. I missed seeing the ornaments my brother and sister and myself made strewn about the tree. I missed unpacking the ornaments with my mom because every one had a story. “Your grandma gave me this one when I first got married”. “Your sister made this one when she was your age”. I missed my dad holding my on his lap while he sat in his chair with the sound of Christmas music in the background. I even missed the scrawl of my mom’s handwriting and the way she wrote “From Santa”. In my head I’d list the things I missed and once more before the day ended I’d allow myself to shed a few more tears. No matter what foster home I was in – it was the same every year. My Christmas was stolen away from me and I now had the ‘pleasure’ to watch as other people enjoyed theirs.

As an adult I wish I could tell you I’ve put this ritual behind me – but I haven’t. Every year the decorations, the music, and everything that goes along with it re-open an old wound. I still think of my family and bring their images to my mind. I still kiss them all good bye and wish I could just go back and recover what was taken from me. I still allow myself the moment to feel, to cry, and to mourn. 

 For some people, the Holidays are extremely difficult. I have been so fortunate to meet others in my journey that have experienced similar things in life. This year more than ever I find comfort in the fact that I’m not alone in this feeling. At the same time my heart breaks knowing they are living through the same pain that I am. 

If you’re willing I’d like to leave you with a few pieces of advice with you. 

Don’t force your Christmas cheer on anyone. Sometimes all they need is space and to be allowed to feel what they’re feeling. There are appropriate ways to be there for someone around this time without trying to cheer them up. 

If you’re a foster parent – please be patient. I’m sure you care about your foster children and you want to give them a great Christmas but this is a very hard time for them. Give them space and let them mourn everything they are missing. This is honestly something you can’t make better. 

Lastly, please be safe. Check in with yourself. It’s absolutely OK to feel sad and not to love the Holidays. It’s so important to take care of yourself and make sure you’re getting what you need. You are not broken. You’re feelings are 1000% valid and sometimes you need to let yourself feel them. You are not alone!

If the Holidays are as hard for you as they are for me then my heart goes out to you! Just remember that it is just like any other day.  

Until Next Time

 - PronouncedLeah