The icy chill of the wind cuts through my jacket as I make my way up the driveway, past the decorated lighted figures we carefully placed on the lawn for the holidays.  A score of carefully arranged extension cords lay invisible in the night, just waiting for me to take a “shortcut” through the lawn and then onto my face.  I take the sidewalk instead.  I feel a mixture of emotions bubbling inside me, and for once in my life, I’m utterly confused.

This year, the majority of our house remains unlit by busy strands of Christmas lights, despite how much we enjoy them.  Truth be told, time caught up with us much faster than we anticipated, and we decided to not let ourselves become stressed and to just do a few things.  After all, this should be a happy time, and in some ways – it is.  But, in some ways, it’s one of the scariest times of my life.  It marks a few sets of crossroads for me, crossroads that are huge – looming before me like large cliffs over rapid icy waters.  And, I’m freaking out.

Our Christmas tree finally went up, yesterday – although only a few strands of lights are twined around it’s plastic branches.  The box of hand-me down ornaments lays untouched in the corner.  Three strands of Christmas lights lay in the corner, only partially lighting up giving way to dull bulbs on the rest of their strands.  These strands will be used for other decorations, carefully placed so the burnt bulbs aren’t noticeable.  A small cardboard box houses the other hand-me-down decorations, the ones we will turn this way or that so you can’t see the chips or broken edges from their previous owners.  In a way, these decorations could be said to represent me, and the emotions I feel inside.

On the outside, I smile and I wear nice clothes that have been collected over the past … 8 years.  But, if you look closely enough, you’ll see more.  You’ll see the broken corners, you’ll see the chips, and you’ll see the crack in the show I put on.  You may even really see me, who I am when I quit pretending that everything is okay.  I pretend like I still have dreams, like we may actually be able to afford to take a family trip, like I may get my happily ever after, and like everything is going to be just fine.  I pretend like we’re a happy family, and like buying those two Christmas gifts we just laid under the tree for the game we’ll play later didn’t just cost us a week’s worth of food.  I’ll hide the cringe I feel when someone makes a comment regarding the vast amount of toys my beautiful child will have lying under her own Christmas tree this year, and instead I’ll just smile.  I’ll tell you that I’ve not been “up to much,” because it’s much easier to explain away than telling you that really what I do all day is take care of our daughter and try to figure out ways to keep from losing everything as I fight the creditors off my back…single handedly.  I’ll not mention to you once how my life seems to be unraveling in more ways than one, and instead I’ll just tell you about stupid trivial things until your eyes glaze over and you get bored.  Then, I’ll let you talk more about yourself.  I’ll pretend like I’m comfortable while you sit there and complain about how broke you are as you switch on your Wiis and talk about upcoming trips and the new electronic things you just bought.  I’ll pretend like I understand you and how HORRIBLE it must be for you because you can’t afford to buy the newest, the latest, and the greatest and then I won’t tell you about how my Grams just slipped me a twenty so I could buy some groceries, or how my parents love me enough to buy extra groceries when they shop just so they don’t have to see me bow my head down, looking at the floor and admit that we’re struggling hard.  Again.  And, I’ll keep pretending, keep smiling – knowing that when I get home I can bury myself between the sheets and let go for a little while.

I pretend what I do because I know it will make others uncomfortable.  It will make them look at the true meaning of Christmas – past the shiny plastic and wrapping paper, and past the brand new shit you’re all playing with, and past the scrumptious cookies in your hands.  It’ll make you look at the millions of people who have it so much worse than you do, and yet they don’t even carry your bullshit “Bah Humbug” attitude, because they are thankful for what they DO HAVE.  It doesn’t matter that they don’t have a new Wii this year, it doesn’t matter that they can’t give to TOYS FOR TOTS despite your numerous braggings of yourself and that THEIR child will have TWO gifts under the Christmas tree this year – neither of which are shiny or new.  It doesn’t matter that they have no security in knowing what tomorrow will bring, because today?  Today, they are warm, have food in their bellies, and have a roof to sleep under.  And, they’re thankful.  Well, some of us do (and are).

I touch the brick as I walk up the steps of our front porch, and walk into the home we’ve made here.  I look at the walls I painted, and the stripes beneath the chair railing that I painstakingly drew.  I watch my daughter as she dances around the Christmas tree with a flashlight, and I smile.  I smile because I’m thankful for the things we do have – but, on the inside, I’m still scared no matter how thankful I am, because I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to walk through this yard, through this living room and call it mine.  I don’t know much of anything anymore, actually – and it scares the crap out of me.

And, this is how it comes to be – a person so thankful for the family, friends, and blessings she’s been blessed with, yet scared out of her wits for the changes that will inevitably come.  So thankful for the people who see her, and spot the fears and emotions in her eyes and quietly but surely show that they care.  So thankful for the people who have never made her say it outloud because they know it kills her to do so, and it means that in that moment, she can’t even pretend with herself that she believes everything will be okay.  So thankful for the friends who have proved themselves to be real friends, whether close or so far away.  So thankful for the small breaks she’s being given, here and there…just to keep this facade going…because some day, she really believes deep down that this will turn out okay.  Because despite the job that promised twice the pay and didn’t deliver, despite the circumstances that almost tore her away from her family to live many miles away, despite the lies that were fed to her on a daily basis from the one person she’d given her all to, despite the people who pretended to care but never reached out one way or another…she still believes.  She believes that one day, the good in others will overtake the bad, and that the sacrifices she and her family has made to stay here will pay off before they lose it all.  She believes that people like her closest friends and family (and even some almost-strangers) will help her make it with the smallest of things, until things smooth themselves out – although she has no idea when that will be.

And then, I’ll wipe away the single tear that escaped the defenses I’ve set in place, and put on yet another smile.  It’s time to pretend again.

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