We went home today. Thank the Lordt. It’s a Christmas miracle!
I was so happy to be going home. Seriously. This morning in Montreal, it had become crystal clear that we’d overstayed our welcome at the Walkers’. Again, maybe it wasn’t clear to everyone else. I could definitely sense a fair amount of tension, though, which made things incredibly uncomfortable. We packed up, then had breakfast. After grabbing the world’s sassiest cat, I loaded into the car with Mom and Dad, and we began our drive home. Phillip stayed behind to spend New Year’s with Evan, Claire, and some friends.
For as long as I can remember, the drive home from Montreal has been the biggest web of gossip you will ever experience in my family. After a week of biting their tongues, everyone lets it all out. It’s what I’ve come to expect every holiday. While certainly not the healthiest of activities to participate in, the gossip isn’t what bothers me. On the contrary, it’s more about the fact that everyone on Mom’s side of the family chooses to live their lives in secrecy.
Everything has to be worded so carefully in my family. Oftentimes, the censorship reaches a point where you aren’t truly expressing yourself. Not only is the doublespeak toxic, but it’s also exhausting to be a part of. There was literally a 15-minute rant about stocking stuffers during today’s drive home. I mean, what kind of foolishness are we talking about here? It’s insanity. All because Mom doesn’t want to piss anyone off by telling them how she really feels. Instead, emotions are left to fester. As Valerie Cherish from The Comeback says, “That’s how you get cancer.” Be open. Be loud. Be genuine. Don’t worry about how other people might to react to your truth.
While I could say we should all be more like Dad, that’s not the case either. Dad takes things too far. Most of the time, he’s only expressing an opinion or a “truth” in an attempt to aggravate someone. As if Dad’s sole mission is to be a shit-disturber. That’s not okay. I wish my parents had given me more confidence to look up to. Through pep talks, trust in my decisions, or faith in my future, Mom and Dad have always been my biggest supporters. I love both of them more than anything. Confidence is more than that, though. You can encourage someone all you want. Give them $20 pep talks every day. But if you aren’t practicing what you preach, it doesn’t have the same effect. Often, I fail to see that level of confidence from my parents. It upsets me – especially with Mom.
Any post-holiday rants are usually wrapped up within an hour. After that, the drive home continues as normal. I listened to music the majority of the way. We stopped for milkshakes at Reid’s Dairy, then sat in traffic for way too long. There’s really not much to write about.
Back at the Hilton, Dad was a total jackass while we unloaded the truck together. What is it with straight men and moving things? Calm down. It ain’t that deep. From there, we all settled into our respective rooms – moi in an individual room, and Mom, Dad, and Tabitha in their extended stay suite.
I was in a horrible mood tonight. I don’t know if it was a weed hangover or a lack of sleep, but I’m going to say it’s because I felt like an absolute whale. After two weeks of non-stop eating and drinking, my body has now reached rock-bottom. When that happens, as it has happened so many times before, I am not someone you want to be around. I also don’t want to be around anyone. Instead, I want to lock myself in a dark room with nothing but water and a treadmill so I can lose the extra ten pounds I’ve packed on.
Of course, this shift in behavior means that Mom and Dad now try even harder to talk to me. What they fail to realize is that those efforts only push me further away. Mom conned me into going to Jack Astor’s for dinner with her and Dad tonight. Once again, I completely overate. Of course I did. Food is my biggest fucking weakness. So many of my problems would be solved if I could just get my eating habits and body under control. It never works out, though. Apart from a major eating disorder, I have never come close to maintaining my ideal body weight. Although I might reach the magic number for a couple of days, I always fall off track. Instead of picking myself back up, I remain on my ass, and stuff my face with six bagels and a jar of peanut butter. It’s disgusting. It’s depressing. It’s a tale as old as fucking time.
After dinner, I really just wanted to be alone. Alone with chocolate, that is. I grabbed half of a Costco-sized Toblerone bar from Mom and Dad’s fridge, and brought it back to my room. I got stoned almost right away, then began devouring the giant triangles of nougat as if I hadn’t seen food in 40 days and 40 nights. I capped off my evening by watching Leah Remini and her badger claws talk about Scientology.
Tonight, I found myself upset while thinking about RX. Despite my best efforts, I did get slightly attached to the communication we had going on over Christmas. I feel so used by RX. Again. I don’t know why it’s come as a surprise, though. I knew exactly what I was getting myself into when we started messaging again. I had even called out the fact that our conversations would come to an end once RX left his parents’ house.
RX makes me feel like garbage. I feel so disposable to him. As if the sole reason RX messaged me this past week was because he didn’t have anything better to do in his country bumpkin hometown. Now, he’s back in the city. RX has been there since his birthday, which was the last time I talked to him. I shouldn’t be upset. I knew this was going to happen. There was no reason for me to get my hopes up like this again. RX continues to let me down. I wish I knew how to quit him. I won’t hear from him for a while, I’m sure.