We were shopping for Christmas. Christmas has been getting to me these past few years. I'm a fan of Halloween. And I started seeing Christmas ads before then. I felt that the over-commercialization of Christmas was encroaching on my holiday time.
And there's such a panicked influence on gifts. Everyone's hustling and bustling to submit to the routine of this commercialized holiday. I started feeling anxious. And then I was on the phone trying to coordinate meeting with people.
Meanwhile, I ran into someone from work, but I didn't recognize her. While I was carrying on two conversations, I had to stop and ask where she was from because I almost had a panic attack from turning it into a mini-obsession. I relaxed a bit after she told me.
I got off the phone, then a horrid light-sensitive headache happened. I had to shut my eyes for a bit.
The headache passed, and we continue walking around Wal-Mart while I overanalyzed everything. I got to thinking about things from my past. I had a therapist one time give me a homework assignment - to do the 5 Love Languages quiz. It generated a 1-10 score for each form of love communication. Mine were Quality Time - 9, Physical Touch - 9, Meaningful Words - 8, Acts of Service - 3, Gift Giving 2. This was why, when I overheard people worrying about getting the "right" gift, I felt like I was listening to an alien language.
When I was a kid, gifts came from two sources - Santa and various relatives. And I never complained about the "wrong" kinds of gifts. If people got me the wrong kind of something, I was grateful, and thought "Well, maybe I wasn't specific enough." If "Santa" got me the wrong gift, I wasn't disillusioned about his existence, I just figured that his workers didn't have the schematics for the right gift.
Back in the day, when I'd get upset about things as a teenager, my mom always said I was spoiled, and pointed to materialistic gains to make her point. I thought about that, and I also thought about what really made me happy as far as things she did. It was moments watching TV or when she taught me to drive. Then in the no-man's land between the bakery and frozen food section, I started crying.
This holiday season has been the worst. It doesn't help that I lost my home and my family has been scattered around the world. Nor does it help that the 3rd marked the 8th anniversary of my mom's death.
Compounding the anniversary of her death was the fact that former vocalist of Stone Temple Pilots, Scott Weiland, died on that same day this year. Yeah, he was a famous person, but he was a person nonetheless. What made it hit home was his ex-wife's open letter she wrote to the public. She basically said that, while he died on the 3rd, she lost her husband and the kids lost their dad a long time ago; all they lost was hope for improved relationships. She emphasized that nothing is more important that spending time with your kids, and addictions can ruin that. It hit home.
Bottom line is I just feel like a mess.
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