blue christmas

I spent Christmas alone this year. This first year in my life I’ve ever spent it separately from my family. The fourth year without my mother.

It felt like just another date on the calendar and I couldn’t wait for it to pass. The most significant thing I did was clean my bed linens and put a chicken pot pie in the oven.

I started re-reading Slouching Towards Bethlehem again.

My sponsor and I are in the same boat. I forgot to call her last night because I was too depressed, I went to bed so early. Emotionally, I was checked out for most of the day. My bones were tired long before I rested my head on my pillow.

I wish I had my charcoals, but they’re up in storage, up in Illinois. I wouldn’t mind smudging the fingers of my left hand again with them while I glide them over Bristol paper and make a gloomy illustration to reflect my mood.

At least I didn’t run to a bottle of whiskey last night. At least I’m broke so I can’t do it now.