THE HOLIDAYS ARE HARD

My day-to-day life in Florida is wonderful. The weather is basically perfect for 75% of the year, the people are so friendly, the military is giving my fiancé the opportunity to pursue his dream career, and so. much. more. But sometimes you just need to wallow in self-pity for a moment. This is my moment.

What’s the worst part about living 1,000 miles away from home? Missing the burial of your great-grandmother, not being at the hospital when your grandpa fell and hit his head, not seeing a single game of your brother’s last basketball season, the huge chunks of life you miss as your cousins grow up, and all of the little moments and memories that you are not a part of. The worst part is being emotionally distant from your family. Not because they are trying to exclude you, not because you’ve isolated yourself; simply because you are not physically there for the afflictions of everyday life.

There are no late night talks over a bottle of wine with your aunt; there are no homemade dinners from your grandma, no running to your mom’s house when you need a pick me up, no rounds of HORSE with your dad in the backyard. The holidays together are few and far between. And there’s the guilt that comes with not being there. The guilt is the hardest for me to deal with.

I don’t dwell on these things regularly. I can’t. I miss my family every single day, but I try not to let that drag down the rest of my life. Homesickness rarely bares its ugly head in my world, but the holidays are a big exception.

 My 22^nd birthday was the hardest to date. My fiancé was great. He had flowers delivered to me at work, planned a surprise dolphin cruise, invited friends to come out for a hibachi dinner to celebrate  and truly made my birthday all about me. I got so many phone calls and text messages from family and friends back home. It was a fantastic day and I was on the verge of tears for most of it. It was my first birthday not spent with my family. I realized that I had no trips home planned and had no idea when I would see anyone in my family next. It took me a few days (and buying a plane ticket to visit family in Wisconsin) for me to recover.  I wish I could tell you this has gotten easier with each passing missed holiday, but it hasn’t. The holidays are really, really hard.

Okay. There’s my moment of self-pity. *phew* That was good to get off my chest.