I’ve hated the Holidays, all of them, since my Grandma passed in October of 2016. I’ve dreaded every Thanksgiving because it fell on or near her birthday. Every Christmas brought up too many memories or too much guilt of not spending enough time with her (them). Easters come and go.

I’ve pushed through for my kids, being excited for them. Crying in the bathroom or alone in my room when they weren’t looking. I’ve decided to attempt keeping their traditions alive, while creating our own. 

Christmas is particularly hard, because we never have a lot of money to splurge the way I’d like to. I know it’s not about presents, but I always feel guilty that it’s not enough. This year is no different. The guilt is already setting in. However, one thing is different this year, I’m actually excited for Christmas. I’m excited to celebrate Mav’s first Christmas. I haven’t felt excited to celebrate in 10 years. I’m excited to start the Christmas Eve pajama tradition with him. Growing up, we got pajamas from my Grandparents every year. I’ve kept that tradition going, with an added twist, we add a movie, box of candy and bag of popcorn and watch the movies Christmas eve. 

Tomorrow we are getting our tree. This is our second year getting a real tree…another new tradition. I am usually fairly excited to decorate until everyone gets lazy on me. Then it’s me yelling “this is supposed to be fun, why is no one helping?!?” I think that ends up negating the fun part. I’m excited to get Mav his “first Christmas” ornament and our 2017 family ornament. 

After months and months of postpartum depression/anxiety, crying all the time and most recently being angry all the time I’m actually excited for something. I even managed to clean my house today. 

Who knows what’s coming, but hopefully, this is a sign of progress and on the road to getting better. And even if not at least I’m having a good day now and then. 

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