The last good Christmas I can recall was 2007, my first Christmas with Josh in a shared abode. We put up our tree, decorated together, and began creating our own family traditions.
2008 ended up being terrible because we had to call the cops at 5am on the 1st floor neighbors for blasting music, and calling them again at 6pm because the 2nd floor neighbors had been blasting theirs for about 4 hours. It got so bad that Josh took me out for a drive around the city just so I could get some peace and quiet.
2009 was good, because it was marked with visits from family and friends in our new apartment, but it was also tinged with the knowledge that we were still struggling from my layoff earlier in the year.
2010 was the year we were finally planning on going home for the holiday, a first since 2007. We were full of excitement, until our cat became deathly ill and a snowstorm blew up the east coast and our trip was cancelled and we were left with a disgustingly large vet bill (which was followed by another costly trip 2 weeks later and major surgery).
I (and Josh too), have spent a large part of 2011 trying to overcome the major illnesses of our pets, and trying to plan for our upcoming nuptials…all while trying to feel like the other shoe won’t drop. It has been desperately hard to get into the Christmas spirit this year, between the still open wounds of last year and the struggles to move forward…there’s hardly room for anything else. I’ve tried all the usual attempts at achieving childhood memories of past Christmases, with trees and lights and baking cookies, and watching time-honored classics like “miracle on 34th street” and “Charlie brown Christmas”. Nothing has helped. Until this morning.
A very stupid, ridiculous mistake on my part and the repercussions of this mistake are what changed my outlook today. Don’t get me wrong, I still feel awful and stupid and soo not worthy because of my mistake, but that’s just self-deprecation until I know it’s safe to feel forgiven. Yes, I have been forgiven before I have forgiven myself.
I went outside last night to pick up the garbage can, and was startled by a roach crawling around. I did the normal girly thing and yelped, slammed the door and deadbolted it (as if the deadbolt would prevent the roach from coming in?!). I thought nothing of it and went back to my business. Except for one thing. Josh wasn’t home yet. And you can’t unlock the deadbolt from the outside. And I put in earplugs when I went to bed.
I bet you can see where this is going.
My poor, sweet fiancé came home at 1:30a from a long day at work, only to find he couldn’t get in. And I
didn’t hear his numerous calls, texts, and banging on the door because I wear earplugs so I don’t hear the neighbors being assholes. After 2 hours, he finally checked into a hotel. Just in time for me to wake up and find out what had occurred. I frantically call him at 3:30a, panicked and crying, realizing how much of an idiot I was, waiting for him to get mad at me.
But he didn’t. He said he was worried about me. He was worried that I wasn’t answering the door, and what if I was hurt or worse. His rational side figured I was wearing earplugs, but he still had that moment of “what if?”. He was relieved to know I was ok….even though I was an absolute dumbass and deserve a public flogging.
He showed me unconditional love this morning, at 4am when he arrived home. When I deserved it the least, he gave it in spades. That, to me, is the meaning of Christmas. And my figurative heart is bursting in knowing that I got the best gift ever this year, no matter what else happens….illness, bad neighbors, or whatever.
Merry Christmas, and many happy tidings
