Christmas Day 2012 started with a race against the clock. Eleven AM was our drop-dead time, and my son did not need to be moved again. I had a system for picking and paying for our hotels which required the internet. Per my luck, the hotel internet was down for a few hours, so I found myself driving to our second home McDonald’s. The streets were deserted and the parking lot completely non-existent of human kind. It was Christmas, and most people were with their families, enjoying their own special traditions and making new ones.
I thought about how my son must feel. Trying to explain why he was being treated like he did something wrong was not possible. He had already noticed not being invited out to my parents during Thanksgiving while his sister was in town. Now it was Christmas and his sister was once again with them on a little holiday trip. When he asked where his presents were from them, I lied. The truth was, I had no freaking idea. Who does that to a child on Christmas, who is already in the middle of a mess created by adults?
I heard the “Merry Christmas” sounding exactly like I needed it to. I could feel warm childhood memories calm my emotions. My uncle sounded just like my grandfather, and I held on to those feelings until I heard how he said my name. It was off, and I knew they had been told something by my mother. When the first thing my aunt said was to calm down because we needed to find a half way house, I had to hang up. I could not believe how far this had gone. Over what?
We had been forced out a week before Christmas with no reason. Every time I turned on my computer there was another email from King Shit. We were being slammed to anyone my family thought we may have contact with. My son was being treated like shit. My father’s only words to me on Christmas when I called to ask him to shut up his psycho brother, was for me to do it myself. Heartless is word that comes to mind when I think about that day.
I needed it to stop for two seconds before I lost my mind. I had not threatened King Shit, yet he kept saying how he was going to get an order of protection against my husband and myself. I needed a break from him for two seconds so I gave him my F*** Fest Manifesto for Christmas. He said thank you by getting the Order of Protection against me. I slept for almost two days straight after that. It was just the break I needed and well worth the OPP.
- ScottsdaleSpun2013: Welcome to F*#K Fest 2012 (spun8.wordpress.com)