Chaotic is a word synonymous with the holiday season. Anything and everything you try to plan can and likely will go terribly wrong; from something as complex the entire family get together to something as simple as the next sentence you will say in the conversation currently treading dangerously close to political. I dread the holiday season. This crazy chaoticness sets my anxiety off so badly that I can’t even enjoy the good moments. I always look forward to that amazing day in January when all of the decorations can finally go back into their bins in the basement.
My mom says I’m a grinch. I don’t think I am. I enjoy seeing everyone else happy. I like the concept of a holiday where everyone takes a day off from their busy lives to enjoy a meal together. I can even appreciate a little bit of the festiveness, but I can only do that on the actual holiday, not the whole month leading up to it. Unfortunately, these are all just little tiny components of the holiday ordeal, and people often find ways to screw up these little things.
Last night, it should have been a simple peaceful dinner with some friends and family. Instead, my little cousin ate straight butter, slapped my butt (twice), and attempted to pole dance and twerk. The adults weren’t much better, but in a much different way.My parents implemented the rule that anyone who brought up politics had to drink, and by the end of the night, they were all drunk.
Today, my mother and grandmother got into an argument within 20 minutes of our arrival at my great-grandmother’s house. It became a petty shouting match, and was all over how to make macaroni and cheese. The last line had to be the most petty of all. My mother realized she had upset her mom, and so she said “I wasn’t trying to be mean,” to which her mom responded with “Yes you did,” in the tone of a six year old, and then stormed out of the kitchen.
I wanted to leave after that. It was already going downhill, and I can’t stand being in that tiny house when things are tense. Lunch was served nearly an hour late, and was mediocre at best. After I finished eating, I tried to find some people to play the card game “Drug Dealer,” but no one was interested. I finally got my second cousin in law to agree to play, but we didn’t have enough people, so we played War instead. It went on for a half hour, and by the time it had finally finished, she was done being social with the “little kids” and went outside to talk with other adults.
I just sat in silence for a good hour. I’m ridiculously socially awkward when it comes to that side of the family, mainly because I don’t know how to talk to them. They’re incredibly conservative Christians in all aspects of life, and that makes my personality as a whole a ticking time bomb. Finally, my aunt asked me if I wanted to go for a ride in the golf cart. I said yes, so we went for a fifteen minute drive to my other aunt’s house. Once we got there, she asked me to drive back. I drove back with no difficulties. Then, she drove to my uncle’s house, and I drove back from there. Everything at this point was still going great, so she had me drive us back to my aunt’s house. There was a giant branch in the middle of the path, and though I thought I was far enough to the right to avoid it, I hit the edge, and a stick got lodged under the gas pedal, locking in a completely down position. The golf cart accelerated, and veered off-course, making a sharp left into the corn field.
I slammed on the brakes and didn’t move my foot, which thankfully made the golf cart skid to a stop. My aunt told me to relax and take my foot off the brake (which I was still pressing into the floor as hard as I could). At first,I listened. I lifted my foot, and the golf cart started up again and full speed. I slammed my foot back on the brake. That was when we realized the gas pedal was stuck. She turned the key to turn off the golf cart, and we began to look for the cause of the problem. We found the stick lodged under the gas pedal, but she didn’t want to move it because she was scared we might accidentally break the golf cart. I called my dad, and he drove over to fix it, which just meant yanking the stick out.
Luckily, there were no physical injuries from that whole incident, but my pride and confidence in myself driving were definitely hurt. I can get my learner’s permit in less than one year, and I am terrified of driving. My mom wanted me to drive her car instead of the golf cart since it was on private property, but I don’t trust myself behind the wheel to not accidentally injure or kill myself or someone else. Incidents like this only prove my point of why I don’t think I am, nor will ever be ready to drive a car.
I hate Thanksgiving leftovers. They drag on forever, and the food makes my stomach hurt. Thankfully, my second cousin understood this, and made some gluten free , whole grain pasta for dinner. It was amazing. While I was at her house, I was also able to read my book and actually talk to people without feeling super awkward, which is why I decided I wanted to go home right afterwards. My mom thought I was upset, but really it was the polar opposite. I wanted to leave then so that I could leave on a positive note, rather than risking something else happening to taint the whole visit with a negative hue.
If holidays were simple and all went according to plan, I would have gone to my great-grandmother’s, ate lunch, talked with relatives, and gone home sometime this evening. Unfortunately, as exhibited by the details above, this wasn’t the case because holidays are hectic 100% of the time. The better things seem to be getting, the worse they will get, and the worse they seem to be going, the better they will get.