I lie more during the holidays than I do at any other time of the year. I can't help it. It's the only way I've found to survive it with my sanity intact.
But it isn't because holidays themselves hold any meaning or celebration for me - I'm not a Christian, not a big consumer of anything (other than dog treats, permaculture toys, and Vegan Flava), and not currently part of a tribe that wants to get nekkid and dance in the frosty moonlight while candy-colored visions dance through our heads.
The sticky wicket is that everyone around me flips out. So really, the following is just geared to not further inciting the few humans I come into contact with.
The first lie I usually tell is about where I'll be spending it. I try and keep it vague for the handful of people who'll be asking.
"I'll be with my family," I say.
They don't know that my family is three cats and a dog and our land. If they ask specific questions about my family, Plan B is to mention my sister and mother on the coast. There is never a need for a plan C.
That's usually enough because I literally have no more humans in a personal sphere around me (other than my sister, but that's better explained in another post, seriously) and so it's all just people who only sorta know me, so mostly they are just being polite.
The second lie is about what I'll be doing. You'd think it would be pretty straightforward. But it's really not. Because I don't know what I'll be doing. So I say:
"Spending time with family, you know," and then smile and shrug.
They usually just sort of nod and then say what they'll be doing, something with their husband or wife or kids and/or extended family. I don't really know what any of those mean - it always sounds like something that would make me want to take Xanax for or perhaps run away to a life of crime - so I also just sort of nod and smile. And usually that's the end of the interaction.
But really, I don't know. And the truth of it is so subversive. So delightful and delicious and wonderful. So perfect that I don't dare tell anyone.
I can do anything I want.
I can do anything anytime for any reason. I can day drink and lay in the garden and watch the clouds. Because what I want these days is super low key and internal.
Sleep for three days and record it all in my shamanic reality journal? Dance with greenery and Disaronno? Curl up with all the NetflixPirateHuluAmazonprime you'll need but you'll feel good about being alive instead of wanting to wander into the woods and lay down and not get up, called in this instance: https://www.conscious2.com/transforming-shadows/?
Maybe a wild hair like last year where I go to downtown Durham with Woodrow and hit bars where they let in dogs, and do shots of whiskey and laugh as young hotties pet my dog? Plan the next phase of the whole "income" thing because in the next week or so I'm gonna quit Towerville and give them the finger or maybe film it while I play JLo's "I Ain't Your Mama" in the background?
Today anyway, I happily spoon snuggled with my pack til way after dawn, wrote in my dream journal (snowy owl visits!), did a little yoga, wrote a bunch of writing-as-laxative, hassled the kitties, did the dishes, went for a long walk, and am getting ready to make some vegan chili mac for me and the dog, though it will give him truly stunning farts. Probably an aromatherapy bath. Probably some sort of hijinks in the living room aka room with no furniture where I do hijinks that require space. Definitely more poetry written on the walls in rainbow sharpies.
Because I am a fifty-year old zoftig single chick who knows what she wants: to spend the holidays with her three cats, her dog, and her land. And life is so very very good . . .
So that's my December 25th. How was yours?