I don’t think that I ever did feel like a kid when I went back to my parents for Christmas. Instead, it felt cloying, cluttered and claustrophobic - and as far as I can tell, it is entirely coincidental that all three of those start with ‘cl’. I felt out of place and constrained and it seemed irrelevant to anything else in my world. Mum and my siblings were all doing their usual things, but I felt in the same stiff, un-natural position that ‘posh’ visitors were always put in back when I was living there as a child. There was a sense that it was all a performance for my benefit - but one that never really convinced.
This fundamentally and thoroughly explains what this Christmas has been like for me. Trying to move from one room to another has been a constant battle of stepping over things and pushing past clutter.
Sleeping on the couch of dog fur hasn’t been pleasant.
And the cherry on top has been my girlfriend having to go home because of her dog allergies. Hopefully next year will be better.
Save for a hotel and pack Claritin.
Can’t recommend a hotel Christmas enough. It gives you and your significant other room to breathe and debrief away from the noise. You get a space that is “yours”. Plus, it’s nice to poop in peace.
I only live ~15 minutes from my parents. I just didn’t want to have to deal with going back and forth. Wasn’t worth it in the end.
Lots of people expressing negativity in this thread but I want to say that even at age 37, going home for Christmas still feels like I’m a kid again. I laugh and joke with my family, we eat good food, decorate the tree, do winter activities, and have a ton of fun. I look forward catching up with my family at Christmas all year.
I hope you know how lucky you are <3
Me too. Except it’s better than when I was a kid because now we’re all adults and can appreciate each other’s company better, but my mom still always spoils me (and my partner now) when we visit like when I was a kid so it’s twice as awesome.
Having kids of our own did change this for us some, but when Mom/Dad/MIL/FIL asks you to do something you’ll still do it. There’s also nothing like goofing around with people you grew up goofing around with.
Sure. The first time your racist uncle drops an n-bomb or comes out with some LGBT-phobic statement and everyone just goes along with it, you can check your watch, say something about having another engagement, and walk out the door to go home.
My father died when I was 25. That’s when I stopped feeling like a kid at Christmas.
I’m so sorry. It must be hard.
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You posted this same comment twice so you can delete this one because the other clone comment received upvotes and this one didn’t.
don’t have a home to go home to
What drugs are you on?
Can I have some?
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fuck off spam bot
