It was difficult this year. I'm glad it's over. I love my family, I really do. I know that there were years when I didn't show up for them and if I did I was demanding and unpleasant. I put them through a lot and they loved me anyway.
This year I showed up. I tried to avoid inflammatory topics, I cooked, I tried to be kind, patient, tolerant and loving and I tried to keep my mouth shut. I tried to be nice. It was very hard. I did my duty.
I forget and I'm surprised when I find that my family are not more like I think they should be. I'm not always happy with who they are and I'm disappointed at myself for having expectations, for judging them, for wanting them to be different. They can't seem to see me for who I am and I can't make them. It's often hard for me to believe that we share any of the same life experiences but we do. I am from these people. I am of these people. It's exhausting and it's confusing and, luckily, Christmas only happens once a year.
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