‘Tis the season…. for assignments

It’s that time of year again when my life shuts down and I panic to get assignments in by their deadlines.

And it’s full of drama and hair tearing because Oh! Woe! Is! Me! Assignments! The whole world is out to Get! Me!

And it’s Christmas too, or rapidly approaching and normally I like to be baking up a storm, filling the house with cinnamon, gingery delicious smells whilst pretending to be some version of 1950’s perfect.

I loves it. It’s my baking fix. I remember my Granny and I spread cheer through butter filled treats and shortbread.

So I’m not doing that so much at the moment because of the dratted assignments.

I’ve also been very remiss about writing on here. Now you know.

Some realisations about how I’m working on this degree thing have been making themselves known and I shall endeavour to be kinder to myself and maybe do some of this work before it’s three days until hand in.

I will try. That’s as much as I’m committing to at the moment.

At the moment, because of all the panic, my feelings are in stasis.

Suspended amongst panic.

But is Christmas and hell, all my family are in Australia and I can’t be there, with my darling Pink Fish, Grahamski and Natbug, my marvellous mum and a gajillion cousins and aunts and uncles that I haven’t seen for waaaaay too long.

So when I put down the panic I want to cry.

Perhaps the panic does more than jolt me into action.

Perhaps it’s a useful mask for overwhelming feelings that I don’t want to feel right now.

And I’m sad because I didn’t get an invite to Christmas in Portugal when it was apparent that Australia was off the books, so when I did invite myself it was to find there was no room in the inn.

Or actually that nobody was going to be at the inn.

Otherwise I would have made do with the stable and the cows.

So I’m alone again for Christmas and I know it’s only one day.

But it is the one day that, until the last two years, consisted of vast quantities of family and love and laughter. And yes… whisky.

Which makes it special. (The family and love etc … okay fine! – and the whisky)

I’m contemplating how my Dad’s move to Portugal has really made me feel.

Initially it was huge quantities of rage and anger.

Which I tried really hard not be shoe like about and I’m not so sure I succeeded. Oooof.

But I know in myself the most true statement is that behind my anger always, always lies feelings I find harder to deal with – sadness, loss, grief and fear.

When my Pink Fish wrote about this she did so with an honesty that took my breath away and made me want to be as honest with myself.

What I’m feeling comes with a huge judgemental side serving, the biggest should not I can think of at the moment.

I’m jealous.

The one chance I had with all my family in the same country, the chance to build a relationship for the first time swept away by another person.

Another person, another country chosen over daughters.

I’m afraid to say that my fragile ego is finding it all rather hard to deal with along with the plain sadness at not having my dad around anymore.

He’s a short flight away and yet he feels further away than ever.

I’m finding that contemplating my Christmas with no family about me what so ever is bringing these feelings to the fore more than ever.

Most acutely I’m aware that this is my stuff to deal with. So I’m trying really hard not to pick up a shoe or two.

Boy would I ever like to find a way out of this.


*Comments: Oooh, I love comments. However, in light of the exceptionally personal and raw nature of this situation to me I would really appreciate an avoidance of shoulds or judgements. This is difficult stuff for me. That’s cool, we all have our stuff and we’re all working on it. This is one of the places I work on my stuff. Please, please be gentle.*


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