This morning I woke up, heard the heaviness of the rain through the window and rolled over. Fell back to sleep.
I got up eventually and boiled the jug while I found a song to listen to. Danced around the kitchen making breakfast. I changed the sign on the table to say ‘1 day until Christmas!’, chugged my medicine the same as always and curled up on the couch with a sweetcorn toastie and a cup of tea. Ate my snack while reading an old book that I love.
My skin smells like coconut body wash and I light candles in all my rooms. The purple one from bath and body works gets pride of place in the lounge. It smells like Christmas cake and warm glowy lights and the cosy feeling of being wrapped up in a soft duvet while it rains outside.
Everything matches. My underwear and white dress to my pink and white sneakers. Gold jewellery, bright lipstick. I straighten my hair and admire how fast it has grown since mum made me cut all the split ends off. I pose for a photo and delete it. Apply some more highlighter. Admire myself.
The bottom of my tree is crowded with badly wrapped gifts and long winded yet classically heartfelt cards. I know that my vice is spending too much money on other people but I love to give gifts. I just see things out in the world and I want to buy them for people I love. I want people to know that I care about them, or to feel special for a moment. And even though there are probably much better ways to show love than gift giving it is also just so fun. I considered buying you one the way I promised I would, messy on that last night. But then I decided against it. I knew that you wouldn’t buy it for me, that you couldn’t even imagine the kind of gift that I would like even though I’ve told you one thousand times. I guess your gift to me is silence. And my gift to myself is not really giving a shit.
I might paint my nails today.
I’m cooking my own Christmas dinner tomorrow and I’m really excited. I’ve bought a chicken, and vegetables to roast and gravy. I have macaroons and cherries and raspberries, coconut yoghurt, chips and even cheezles as a treat. If you can’t break the diet on Christmas when can you right?
I know a lot of people were sad about me spending Christmas alone, because they think I’ll be lonely. But real loneliness is staying three years with someone who doesn’t love you. I wouldn’t do that to myself. And even though I had a lot of places I could have gone for Christmas, this year I am happy to spend the 25thby myself, eating snacks and reading my book. I am excited to travel north in a new days to see my mum on her days off and to celebrate there with the person who loves me most in the world. I have spent a long time scared of being alone, but it’s been three months today and here I am, just fine.
Merry Christmas old friend.
I hope 2019 brings you exactly what you wish for – with a little bit of room for growth