Thursday, 26 December 2013

How I got over

(or how I stole the Christmas from the Grinch)

.

Bah, humbug.
Humbug, bah.

The only thing that made this Christmas bearable was the notion of some kindred spirits (aka friends) sharing my strong distaste for Christmas and everything that comes with it.

On paper this year should have been more decent than the past years' tortures: less meal to attend, less relatives to go visit, more time for myself. Yet, it's been heavy and quite stressful.

Last week wednesday I had to go a small surgery on one of my veins, so until Christmas Eve I ended every evening with a shot of heparin in the belly. I also have to wear a compression stocking for the whole day (and will have to do so for another whole week) and it's slowly but surely driving me mad.

Moreover I feel more and more stressed each time I return home. I'm not used at sleeping at my parents, dealing with their life style and at the same time trying to accomodate all the people I need/want to meet, the things I need/want to do.

And yeah, if you are a binge eater, Christmas at home with your parents stuffing themselves and then remarking you don't fit in your jeans anymore and you got a big backside, it's not the nicest time ever.

By Christmas Eve dinner I knew I needed a plan, an emergency exit to avoid a nervous meltdown.
And so I tried. The plan involved a lot of time spent knitting, reading my childhood books, sorting out my photos and living in denial.


letture di un certo livello 2

My mum put all my childhood books on some shelves in my former room, at kids eyes level: Sara read some of them already and Kipling tales are amongst her favorite, while she can't really digest "Kim" and "The silver skates":

"It's written by a old granpa, it's soooo boring!"
"No, it was just translated a long long time ago and you're not used to that kind of Italian"
"Was it any different when you were a kid?"
"No, Sara, this book was translated before I was even born"
"That old?!? How could it be possible???"

So with endless line of stockinette stitches, some photos and some good music, I managed to survive the food, the family, the kids playing with all the toys and the cartoon on TV.
And when everything else seemed to fail I resorted to the only available escape: a glass of sherry, full to the brink, so I could see the glass more than half full.

Today I met with Miky and Corra and they could see km afar that I was not alright. Surviving is a tough job and with consequence: trying to maintain a balance when I'm fundamentally unbalanced right now, it's a tiring way to spend my break.
I'm just happy that the worse is over. Or so it is until new year's eve. Help...

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