Category Archives: Writing

Not gonna lie: yesterday was rough.

I understand that any first holiday after a loved one has died is hard to get through, but Christmas? The day when you celebrate family above all else? Yeah, hard doesn’t begin to describe it.

When I used to work in nursing, I typically volunteered to work on all the holidays for two reasons: #1 – overtime pay. As a single girl living in NYC, I always needed an influx of extra cash, so getting paid time and a half for the holiday shift was gold for me. Reason #2 was that I was that single girl living in NYC when all my co-workers were married with kids and families they wanted to spend time with on the holidays.

I never wanted to spend time with my family – such as it was – just my mother and stepfather, when I could make some badly needed extra cash. Besides, it was just the three of us, that long ago Easter ham incident killing the holiday dinners with my grandmother and aunt for evermore, and most times when we got together there would be some kind of emotional scene, argument, or something else and I wound up leaving, hurt, angry and pissed.

And I am horrified and so disappointed in my younger self that I felt that way.

It’s said the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. By that definition, my family was insane as a unit because we did do the same thing over and over again whenever we got together. When it involved my grandmother or aunt, that insanity rose exponentially. So it wasn’t a three-day wonder why I chose to work a holiday instead of spending it sitting on the edge of my seat, just waiting for a bomb to explode while trying to eat an overcooked, inexpensive cut of meat and boiled potatoes.

Regrets are something I don’t allow myself because I’m savvy enough to understand you can’t change the past. You can only ensure the same thing doesn’t happen again in the future by changing your actions, reactions, or word choices. As I sit here thinking about how difficult yesterday was, I do have regrets about those past holidays where I bailed on my parents, though, opting to work instead of spending time with them. With the ignorance of youth, I never anticipated them dying. I knew they were going to. Someday. But that someday was a small nugget in the back of my brain.

If I had those times back, knowing what I know now, I would still work some holidays, but not every single one. Yes, the money was needed and appreciated. Student loans, rent money, food, and basic needs were helped to be paid with the time and half pay. But I could have skipped a shift or two if I knew doing so would make my mother happy and give me a chance to maybe divert her emotional demons toward some positive outlooks.

And this is why I don’t do regrets- because the anxiety and sadness that typically develops when I consider what I should have done instead of what I did, takes an emotional toll on me and hits me hard.

Just as hard as yesterday was to get through….