Nope.

There will be no Christmas. Not for me, anyway.

First I want to express my appreciation, because there have actually been people that tried to help, that went above and beyond. (Thank you, Mysti:)

Well anyway, I have just had it. It seems very strange to me that I feel very numb about a number of messed up family issues, and my personal body just breaking down.

I've said before that Christmas seems to be nothing but pressure, something I don't enjoy at all. And frankly, whether they meant to or not, (and I'm pretty sure not) my family has let me dooowwwwn.

There are some things that I've been working on a while and I want to send them out. But my Christmas spirit is shot, I am sick in so many ways, and I'm just not going to be responsible for 'it' (Christmas) anymore.

I usually make one item per year, as I am so slow and for some reason it takes me sooo long to crochet. I am a fringe away from being done on a special scarf, and I figure the person who's getting it will be happy whenever it gets there.

And so forth for the pictures I finally had made a loving Aunt.

I paid a butt-load to have 35 Hallmark imprinted, and more to make those magnets to go inside.

But I admit I am pissed, and beside myself, that at no point has Husband lifted a finger to figure out how to make labels or to do anything about his big ass family and sending these cards to them.

I get sick of being his unpaid, but extremely professional, secretary that is expected to take care of such things. Despite the fact that I mentioned it to him a while back. To write their addresses. Or make labels.

You gotta understand. I ended up going to the doctor yesterday, because the night before I must have been suffering from what can only be called a fever. The day before I got worked on by the dentist and that evening I started the Abilify.

I'm on the edge of my period. It's so 'funny' I've told countless 'professionals' that I have self-diagnosed myself with PMDD, and they just look at me. Again, isn't there a test for this?

Nope.

There would be if 13-15 year-old boys got the malady, since they are apparently so prone to violence.

Maybe parents would stop buying 'killem' games, and make those kids play Monopoly or football for once.

Or they would have to sit there with a pad on, hoping it didn't slip anywhere funny. Yeah, can you tell I've been there?

A healthy game of 'Risk' that goes on for days beats D&D, and teaching kids chess makes them good, non-violent thinkers. I never heard of anyone that liked chess shooting anyone. They're too busy being brilliant in other areas of life.

Enough about everyone else, I'm telling the world that there will be no Christmas at Tart's house. We still don't have a tree (so I say fk it), we still haven't send, mailed, anything, and I say unless it's my people (who of course, Husband wouldn't even know to deal with) it's not my problem.

The joy is gone. Making me wonder if you have to be a little kid, or have kids, to enjoy it all?

I don't know how to convert the Excel file into labels. I am not typing all those names in. Just because. I guess I want a raise.

Because I am a damn time-bomb waiting to explode. Don't worry, I'll implode on my tiny family and you'll never hear about it.

Because I'm that good.