This is the point.

This is the time of year where I seem to be most ill-at-ease with my life. I'm not sure what my problem is. Maybe it's hormonal, one of those girl things. Maybe I'm mentally unstable. Maybe it's just that my personality gets overwhelmed by the increased mental chaos. I tend to think it's the latter, but don't all mentally unstable people deny being unstable? Anyway, I hate the holidays. I play along most years, pretending to love them, because you're supposed to. But really, all of the lovey-dovey, count your blessings, find joy in your family and friends, that's all stuff I do all of the time. So the holidays don't bring me joy. They bring drama. They bring family members together in odd dynamics, which usually results in someone getting "picked on" (for lack of a better word). They allow distant family to have a say in issues that they cannot possibly understand, frustrating those of us who've been tackling those issues for an extended time. People feel "brave" with conversations since they know there is an extended cooling off period in between visits. Responsibilities and tasks and stressors get piled on top of already busy, frazzled, stressed out people. I don't find joy in tasks like spending money I don't have, time I don't have, or energy I don't have. I don't like knowing that some people are pushing their own limits for me. I don't like knowing that some family members are over-extending themselves on my behalf, because I know from experience that eventually that turns into resentment and stress. I hate that the holidays are carefully disguised demonstrations of wealth. Even "just being together" costs money. Food costs money. Clothing costs money. I've never been to a family gathering that we had balogna and peanut butter sandwiches and watched a movie we already owned. There are always pictures and special clothes and little smokies, which all cost money. I am laughing out loud at the reaction that suggestion would get. So I sacrifice on my own little family gathering, where we eat peanut butter and balogna and watch a movie we already own, not because we want to, but because it's the only way we can afford matching clothes and pictures and special food. Of course it's met with "oh we don't HAVE to do that this year" but the implication is always there. You don't want to be the one family to break up the traditions. You don't want to be the one family that gets "covered" by the others, labeled as the ones unwilling to make the sacrifice for little smokies. And then, when it's all over for this year, you have a whole year to swear to yourself that next year will be different. Next year will be better. Next year you'll plan ahead and you'll make sure you're not in that position. Next year you won't let yourself get caught up in the inevitable drama that is human nature. Next year you will embrace the holidays for their originally intended purpose and all will be right with the world. And then it comes crashing down on you and you start the cycle again.

If I seem a bit depressed it's because I am. Friendships I thought were solid are apparently made of nothing but quicksand. I am so angry with myself for neglecting more solid friendships, which are now strained and uncomfortable due to my lack of effort. I feel very alone, a situation largely of my own making. I am unable to make the effort to find myself the friendships I need in my life, but unable to live without them. I can't figure out how to maintain the ones I already have, much less cultivate new ones. My husband has successfully reduced our relationship to only being as good as our financial stability, and that has me terribly upset. Perhaps he didn't mean it that way, but that's what it essentially is. You don't use words like "divorce" and "suicide" in conversations about money and not mean it. Another big old heaping teaspoon full of pressure and stress on top of my already fragile mountain. Add that I thought we communicated well and were essentially happy together (something I've told anyone who will listen), and a dose of embarrassment and egg-on-my-face push me over the edge. I don't know what the hell I need. Space? Forced friendship? A kick in the ass? I don't have a clue.