Christmas is a ritual.
It was once gluttonous. Filled with false pomp and cheer. I was excited for the booze and stimulants and the trouble I could get myself into. I braced myself for the day.
Christmas was scary. The days leading up to it were the worst. We would get attacked.
Christmas is presents and presents are always nice.
These days Christmas is a chore. I am an outsider. I look for ways to help and keep busy and am relegated to the kitchen where I wash dishes and dishes and dishes.
I see a fractured family doing their best to play normal. I do my best to ask questions and be nice and friendly and I am often desperately thinking of conversation starters.
By the end of the day I usually dissociate. It happens suddenly and I get tired and want to hold my toys and go to bed. Perhaps too much overstimulation.
I like how everyone everywhere seems friendly and over worked and doing their best to keep up the cheer. I like how Christmas means different things to different people. It is a day when many of us are forced to stop and be part of or at least attempt to be.
It is a day that holds weight and this year, despite my mixed feelings, I am mindful that there are many other people suffering more than me and having to endure the day in much harder circumstances. I can hopefully give my parts a voice tomorrow, if they need it and let them express their feelings as it is safe now and the abusers have gone.
I just left New Orleans and arrived in Houston, Texas for a stopover flight to LA and then home to Melbourne. I am so glad to get out of New Orleans. This demon infested city sucked me dry over the last five days and I am absolutely exhausted.
I dissociated the first night on arrival and then a protector part came out and I felt inward and cold and didn’t really recognise anything or anyone from real life. Nobody could get in that way and it was safer. That lasted about a day and then I felt like I came back for the last two days, but straight after presenting at the conference (the reason I came to New Orleans), I was drained and a feeling of exhaustion came over me. I slept and could have slept the whole next day. A part wrote and told me what was going on. They said: “Well as you know there are monsters and demons in this city and they attacked us on Tuesday. They come in and slide around our body and tell us we are disgusting and yukky. They also tried to call us out as there are bad rituals in this city. Everyone who doesn’t make it is on drugs or gets wasted. They are trash (to the occult) and escape into oblivion. Its safer there for them.”
I could feel the change when we left Mississippi. I could feel it in the air. I don’t think I could ever go back to that city. It is full of witchcraft and voodoo symbols everywhere and people leading a lascivious lifestyle. I think if you did not have Christ in your heart, the city would be fun and cool and beautiful, but as a RA survivor I am very susceptible to the darkness. The demons did not like me being there and tried to attack me. I am thankful I survived and left unscathed and there were some good bits to the experience, but unfortunately the darkness just beat any goodness out of the last bit of this trip. I can’t wait to get home.