Dear beloved readers,

Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate, and for those of you who don’t, happy Saturday! I had one hope for this year’s Christmas, one I already knew it was going to be different and weird to me. Where I am from, Christmas day is actually not that big of a deal, but Christmas Eve…Man, Christmas Eve is something else.

Here’s the thing, as far as traditions go, I was able to keep mine in place. Every Christmas Eve I do the same thing, it has become one of my favorite days of the year in fact. I wake up, I make myself breakfast, and I watch Miracle on the 34th Street, once that is over, I watch Home Alone 1 and 2, and finally, The Grinch. Only thing that was different is that I didn’t have to shower between Home Alone 2 and The Grinch and get ready between clips of green Jim Carrey eating glass. And that’s when it got really weird for me. I spent the day in my pj’s, I ate food that I actually had to prepare – and let me tell you, perhaps the single most glorious thing about Christmas is not having to cook at all –, and tried to make sense of this new reality, one that can be at times lonely, but one I was trying to handle.

I am not going to lie, I was okay until around 8pm, when my mom FaceTimed me from my grandma’s house. I held up pretty strongly, truth is, I didn’t feel really sad about it because, as hazy as last year seems to me after this crazy semester I just had, I remembered very clearly how last Christmas was. Partially, I blame myself for that catastrophe. I think it was pretty clear to me that 2020 was not a year to celebrate, and I should’ve listened to myself and to what I was comfortable with. But yeah, last Christmas stunk. And this year, when my mom called me and I saw everyone, saw the Christmas decoration my grandma always gets right every year, saw the food that I was desperate to eat, saw my family whom I miss very much, I didn’t feel sad.

It wasn’t until after we hanged up, and I found myself sitting in bed and realized that after The Grinch the rest of the tradition was something that I wasn’t going to be able to do this year, that I lost it. And so I cried like a little girl, sad and alone on Christmas, which sounds awfully like a Christmas movie, one I would hate to watch, but it was the reality of my day. The one thing I hoped for this Christmas, one thing that would make this whole thing come true, which was to have a white Christmas, didn’t happen, so I found myself miserable and alone.

And when things like this happen, as much as you try to be strong and make peace with the fact that this is your reality, one that you chose for yourself, therefore you’ve got no one else to blame but you, it fucking sucks. Goddamn it if growing up isn’t the single hardest thing to go through. And I guess we have to go through it alone.

Don’t get me wrong, being alone has made me stronger. I’ve learned a while ago how to love my own company and I enjoy being by myself a lot! But on days like Christmas Eve, that my brain already has a sense of expectations, it will just sting more than other days. And that is part of it, that is part of this whole decision I made to go to grad school abroad. And I don’t regret this decision, but at times I wish circumstances, that are out of my control, were different.

Growing up is realizing that maybe you have to reevaluate some traditions. Or maybe, not reevaluate, but change them, mold them into something new. And I wasn’t ready for that this year, I wasn’t ready to feel so alone and find myself with nothing else to do, and with absolute no strength to wait for midnight – something we always do in my family. So what I did, and I am not claiming this is healthy or smart, but I tried to focus on the things I didn’t miss. Like when my mom passed me on the phone to my grandma and she commented on how much skinnier I looked. Something I know it’s said with good intentions, but something I never wish to hear. Or when I saw my younger, 15-year-old, heat of puberty, thinks she is 18 and knows more than everyone else cousin, and she just had that stunk face on that is exhausting to deal with. Or when I remembered if I were there, I’d have to wait until midnight to eat and by the time I hanged up the call, I was already dined and ready for bed. Skincare and all.

Things are different, and I still don’t miss so much of my old reality to make me wish to be there. Maybe, and I know this will sound confusing and weird, but maybe I miss a reality that is yet to come. Which makes no sense because I have to live it to miss it, but right now, it does make sense to me. I can’t wait for the Christmas that I have my family, my own family, with me. That me and my kids make cookies that will probably suck because their mother isn’t a gifted cook, but they will understand. I want to be with them when I watch my four favorite movies, and I want for them to chuckle with me while we watch Kevin getting in trouble. I want to stay up until unholy hours with my husband and wrap gifts we waited until the very last minute to wrap, and I want to be waken up on Christmas mornings by shouts of pure exhilaration as my kids jump up and down on my bed telling me that Santa has come, while my husband and I exchange a look of pure complicity that reads loud and clear that we both need a cup of coffee, but that everything is perfect and we are so lucky.

And that fantasy, one I have cultivated carefully since I can remember, hurts me sometimes. It feels far away, and I am only 22, and who knows, right? But god, every Christmas I can’t help but want that. A few years ago, if you asked me what my dream was, I would say New York, Broadway, Saks 5th Ave. Now my dream is just to have my family, to be happy, and for snow. That seems far away, and I don’t like that, but maybe, years from now, when that does happen and Christmas is on a Saturday again, and I still have the blog, I will come here and I will just write one single sentence: I made it. And you guys will understand.

Until that Christmas arrives, I will have to tell you that this one was lonely and bumpy. But the good thing about being low is that the only way to go is up, so Merry Christmas beloved readers, I hope your day is magical, and if it isn’t, we have many more to go. Stay safe, and out of trouble, but if you don’t – oh my god, tell me all about it.

– Your Girl on the Go