Author's Note: I suppose I should warn for mature content or something like that, so I'm warning you that this is some pretty heavy stuff.
I hate Christmas. I hate the mall at Christmas - there are too many people. I hate the lights at Christmas - they are too artificial. I hate Christmas trees - they always seem out of place in my living room. I hate buying presents - it makes me anxious and I don't know why. I hate that I feel obligated to buy presents for people I haven't kept in touch with the rest of the year. I hate flying across the country in a mad rush of people who are too wrapped up in themselves to care about others. And flying always makes me anxious. I hate the phoniness of Christmas, because come December 26th it disappears as if it never existed, making me wonder if anyone out there was sincere to begin with. Call me Scrooge if you must, but I have to say, I really hate Christmas.
And it's not as if I don't want to like Christmas, believe me when I say I do! I wish I could go along like everyone else, and subscribe to commercialism. I wish I could song along to carols, out of pitch or otherwise. I wish I didn't have panic attack at the mall, or in the airport or even lying in bed at night. And I wish I could go home for Christmas, but I can't even bring myself to do that this year, and every time I think about Christmas last year, I start to panic once again.
I suppose I should tell you about my father, because if there is a Scrooge gene, I inherited it from my father. I also inherited the "dislike of malls" gene from him as well, coincidently. So my father has always hated Christmas, and I wish I could tell you why but I can't. It's just one of those things that has always been that way, and will always be that way. Usually around Christmas he suffers from severe depression, and when I was younger my mother used to say "You're father's not feeling well. Just give him a minute," on Christmas morning. She doesn't say that anymore. She knows that my sister and I don't like to talk about the lie. Or maybe she never said it last year because he was in the hospital, and I won't be around to hear it this year, so I guess that really, that doesn't matter.
Anyway. 2006. It was a rough year for my dad. He has a job he hates, he's an auditor. He also hates his boss. He need some time off and he got it. 8 months with nothing to do. Sounds great right? Not exactly. During this time he developed a severe gambling addiction. How bad? He withdrew his retirement fund and his investments. He maxed out his credit cards. He spent every pay check that was mailed to our house. And he put our family a quarter of a million dollars in debt - something my mother did not learn about until two months after he had returned to work.
So my mother snooped around one day, confronted my father and they mortgaged our house to pay off his debts. And I was so angry. I don't even think I can put into words how betrayed I felt, and I pride myself in being an articulate individual. My father was supposed to be my provider and instead he was just selfish and hurt the people he said he loved. And gambling? That's not even a real addiction! Alcohol is an addiction. Smoking is an addiction. Drugs are an addiction! Gambling is not an addiction - it's just an excuse. So my mother sent me to a psychologist because I was so angry, and I resented it so much that I hardly listened to a word she said, as she tried to explain how gambling is a real addiction, and how my father had borderline personality disorder. That was another thing I couldn't believe - sure my dad got angry sometimes, but he was normal!
After finding out about my dad's debts my mom sat my sister and me down and tried to explain to us that my father was sorry, though he couldn't say it himself. And he wasn't gambling anymore and we had to be supportive because we loved him. Except that, I later found it he was still sneaking out to gamble and I was so upset that I stopped speaking to my father. If he really loved our family, he wouldn't continue to hurt us, and if we wanted to hurt me, well then, I had nothing to say to him. So essentially, I avoided him as best as I could but when we were in the same room, we didn't talk. 5 months, 17 days of silence. And then the silence ended.
I came home one night after school to find my mom and dad in a fight upstairs. My sister and I sat silently at the kitchen table and waited for it to end. Instead, my mother came down and asked us if we'd like to go for a drive, because my father was packing his things to leave. My sister and I both agreed that we didn't want to anywhere, especially not when my mom was upset. So my father came downstairs, looking for his glasses, in a rage, and I remember telling him to smarten up, because he was acting like a child, and he obviously wasn't capable of living on his own. He yelled at me to shut up and to the day I die, I swear that I will never forget him saying "I'm leaving and you're getting your wish. I hope you're happy." And while he dragged his suitcase down the stairs I hid in the closet and cried.
So my father drove off. My mother phoned a gambling help line because he had nowhere to go, and he had given my mother his credit cards once she found out about his gambling. On the phone, they told my mom to phone the police. The found my father later that night - he had tried to commit suicide and they had arrested him and taken him to the hospital where they were keeping him on suicide watch. My mother went to visit him the next day, I couldn't do it. I couldn't even go to school for the remainder of the term. I felt so guilty - my own father thought I wanted him dead! I must be a monster! How could anyone ever like me if that's how my own father saw me? When my mom told my dad about these things he wrote me a letter to apologize, and explained that he was suffering from bipolar depression, and when he said those things he didn't mean it.
I went to visit him in the hospital for the first time on Christmas day. It was a start. I can't say that things are great between us - I still feel betrayed, I still wonder why this happened and I still ask myself if he did mean what he said - otherwise, why would he have said it in the first place? But things are better. He is going to a psychiatrist and psychologist, and he goes to a gambling help group once a week. And we are talking - when I phone home, I always make sure to ask him if he is alright and what he has been up to. And I have accepted that this was not my fault - I can only be responsible for myself and my own actions.
So why I am I telling you this? Well a lot of reasons. After my dad went to the hospital, I found out some of my friends had parents who had tried to commit suicide and this was very helpful. It made me feel better to know that I was not alone, and it was reassuring to know that feeling guilty was normal, but if you know someone who tries to commit suicide - it's not your fault. And the same can be said for any type addiction - be it alcohol, drugs or even gambling, which yes, is a real addiction. They have to deal with their own problems, and you can only be as supportive as you can be.
And I also want to share with people that I know being a teenager is tough, but when you commit suicide, or try to, it hurts the people around you more than you might realize. I am pretty positive that if my father would have succeeded, I would have felt so guilty that would be with you to share this story, today. So, ff you are feeling suicidal - try talking to someone, please you will be amazed at the support you find, and no situation should be so hopeless that you feel suicide is the only option.
Life can't be great all of the time, I'm afraid, but if you ever feel that way, or you know someone who you suspect feels suicidal - REACH OUT! I will listen, but there are also friends and family who will listen, too and if you're not comfortable talking to one of them, try phoning a suicide hotline, they are trained to listen to people who feel hopeless, and they will help you figure out how deal with a tough situation. Trust me, I know it's cliche, but suicide is a permanent solution to a permanent problem. And it may not be easy to talk about these things, but you are strong enough to persevere - I did. And while I may still hate Christmas, at least I still have my family and for that, I am thankful.
Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night,
Giggler01
