Did It Truly Feel Like Christmas?

     I was too late.

    I always used to sit with my cousins every holiday season, hiding sonder from the adults. I guess that wasn't the case this year. 

    Feeling the pressure of moving to another country and leaving the people I love behind is not for the weak; and being the center of attention for disliking the idea of moving just makes it worse. I've never felt so helpless, anxious, and miserable. Having a sister that doesn't like you doesn't make a huge help either, no? Being gossiped about in front of my own eyes by my own sister was a massive betrayal for me. I thought she understood me; understood how depressing it was for me to handle the pain of turning my back on the few people who actually cared for me when I knew the so-called "family" I lived under the same roof with couldn't help me learn how to love just to get on a plane. Maybe I was overreacting, or maybe the child buried in my soul simply wanted to stay with my cousins again, and never letting go of them.

    So, did it truly feel like Christmas?

    I suppose it's okay; acceptance is the last stage after all, innit? 

    Or maybe, it did truly feel like Christmas. Clones of the child buried within my soul surrounded me, reminding me that I could count on my cousins anytime. I let out a deep sigh, brushed the toxic humiliation off my shoulders, and walked away. Away from the adults I hid my sonder from, and closer to the people who revived the 6 year old trapped in my body for years, yearning for adrenaline and not much but just fun and love on holidays. 

    We sat down on the table for the kids that have been reserved for us every year, popped a bottle of sparkling non-alcoholic wine, and laughed the struggles away. After all, it was a true feeling of Christmas.