I have the whole weekend to myself. No kids. No commitments. No life, it seems.
The world is at my feet and I am like a deer in headlights, wondering what to do with it. And then, walking around town, I got all teary. Suddenly felt very alone and very lonely. They sound the same, but I usually LOVE being alone. The lonely bit, not so much. I tell myself it’s self-pity — stop giving in to the ‘woe is me’ and get on with it. But the first Christmas apart is looming and it makes me want to cry. Not because I would change how things are (for now) but Christmas made me sad when we were a family. Mainly because I felt so alone. And, as we all know, if you are alone, Christmas is the time to slap it around your face like a wet kipper
I have cried and felt alone for the last few Christmases, which is sadder, really, because then we were supposed to be ‘together’. Now we are apart, it should feel justified in some way, but trawling through town today, it didn’t feel that way. I felt alone and joyless. I know this sounds really selfish, but I knew nobody would buy me a present, nobody would think what I would really love and get it for me. To be fair, this hasn’t happened for a while, but I suppose being separated erases the hope that it might happen, that he might, this year, think about what I would love and surprise me on Christmas morning.
All the adults in my life have a pact that we will buy for the kids and not each other, which is sensible and financially sound, but it means I don’t get any presents. Not any. And, it’s not about the material gifts, of course, but it’s that feeling…waking up on Christmas morning and not opening anything, Having nothing to touch, sniff, look at, smile at…you know, all that schmaltzy advert stiff that I am so subservient to.
Hey. I sound like a selfish moo, I know. And I genuinely love giving presents more than receiving (it’s really NOT about the present)nand I loved buying my 12-year old her first make-up today. Decent stuff, little tasters of womanhood. I hope she likes it.
Anyway, I have ended up in a trendy bar/bistro drinking a Cosmopolitan and writing this post. Bags at my feet, laptop on the bar and the chatter of Saturday evening around me, I have Saturday night free to go out and live it up, but nobody to do it with. My friends are all busy and I must put up with that galling feeling of what I could be doing and go home, tidy up, stick some bread in the toaster and watch crap tele. The single life.