Christmas is the time of year that is perpetually happy. The tree is up; the house smothered in festive attire.
The elf has come to watch over the boys.
The snow pants have made their first appearance.
There is novelty in shoveling.
But there is part of me that still wonders if all this becomes a charade. Living vicariously through the joy of childhood just to ignore all the stuff going on.
If I can decorate the house and buy lots of presents, perhaps I'll forget about the symptoms?
My friend Emily, who lives with schwannomatosis, wrote about this very thought on her blog today. She is a strong, passionate Mama of two boys, living with a chronic, unpredictable disease too. Despite our very different afflictions, we share a lot of the same emotional reactions to what's been hurled our ways.
I second her thought that, in fact, I am not a miserable sod right now. It's just a little tricky sorting through this mess of frenzied-child-excitement while dealing with my dysfunctional self.
Santa better bring you that red, Em!
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