It’s the most wonderful time of the year – I always thought so. I loved Christmas – celebrating Jesus’ birth, finding or making that special gift, cooking, parties, decorating, lights, family events – the whole shebang.
Last year, the Christmas season fell just 5 weeks after D-day. I was so shell-shocked that I didn’t do anything. I didn’t decorate. I didn’t cook. I gave gift cards and money instead of my usual carefully chosen gifts. I didn’t go to any parties. I didn’t throw any parties. It was hard enough just to put one foot in front of the other and make it through the day.
The pain was not just inside my body. It felt like there was a aura of pain surrounding me like a dense fog. It made every move laborious and tiring. Every day was long and slow and painful.
But this year the days are flying by! I wouldn’t say that I am contented and happy like before, but I am able to enjoy things. I’m still slower than usual. I have not gotten my Christmas newsletter out. My decorating is still not finished. The song Merry Christmas Darling sends me into stomach-twisting retreat. But I am now strong enough and stable enough to keep moving. Good things are happening and it’s enjoyable. I am even throwing a party this year. My husband has been helpful and kind. We’re still in that place where he’s happy and helpful and kind as long as I make no mention of the affair and keep up the appearance of being normal again. I’m not sure if I’m going to let that go or if I’m going to bring up my feelings and risk a big blowout just before the kids come home.
We have an appointment with our counselor tomorrow, but my husband forgot about it and scheduled a presentation for the same time. How convenient. So I’ll go by myself. I’m going to talk to the counselor about how badly I feel lthe sessions are going, and that I am continuing only because my husband feels it is going well. We’ll see if the counselor can make some improvements. If not, we’ll be looking for another one after the holidays.