Christmas is for the kids. Whoever thought up that line was so right. I find it hard to get excited about it these days. I can remember how amazing Christmas was as a kid. But I can also remember that it was all about the presents, the material stuff. And I’m just not into all that anymore.
Christmas is also a reminder of how different I am from the rest of my family. A couple of weeks of enforced 24 hour a day incarceration with mine, remind me we have nothing in common. I feel like a charlatan. We share no ethics, different boundaries and we have a very different slant on the world which does create tensions in conversations. The older I get the less easy I find it to keep my mouth shut. And my Dad has never been good at biting his tongue. We are too similar in that respect.
It’s generational I guess. But then no one knows me. Mostly that’s good. They wouldn’t like me if they really knew me. But the hard question remains, ‘where would I be if I wasn’t here for Christmas?’ I have no idea. I have nowhere else to go.
My life sits on the borders of having purpose, but those aspirations which used to be my life blood, inhabit a person who has generally lost the will to care because noone else does. I have to find myself again. I think this is fairly standard as you get older. You realise you can’t change the world, and that just getting by, ticking those standard life milestones (none of which I have achieved) and still having all your own teeth is a minor miracle. If you’re young, just wait. If you’re my age, I hope you are having positive dental experiences. But as you get older your aspirations should change, even if the body starts to slow down. There are occasions when I am inspired or moved by something. And I’m glad that I am finding a few more of those moments. Their slowly increasing frequency reminds me that I still have a soul and that I need to start looking for these moments more often. Either that or I am heading for a breakdown.
Where will I be as things change, after my parents die? Who knows. That is not something I am ready to contemplate, despite it being an unavoidable fact of life, that could even happen before next Christmas. I hope I am not the kind of person who regrets things after their nearest and dearest has passed away. I always try to immerse myself when I am here. That, at least, is important because regret is the most pointless of emotions. There is nothing you can do about what has been before. You take the information and you improve your future. Dwelling on fuck-ups helps noone unless you are going to use it to change your future and really mean it. I don’t want to become estranged from the family that will still survive them because that really will be all I have left.
But it’s hard when you’re at that stage of having no energy to care either way to a certain extent. I hope that changes, that I find things worth regretting, that I find a way to change the future enough so that I can really appreciate what lies ahead. But my very cynical state of mine continues to pervade for the moment. I realise I have lost connection. Emotional connection to be specific. I am remarkably dead to a lot of things. The last seven years have been hard, loaded with disappointment and betrayal by others but also of myself. Reminders that people are just ships in the night. I never found that ‘Cold Feet’ community I wanted, largely because I always feel like an outsider. I don’t have roots, somewhere I know I come from, people I have shared memories and history with, beyond family, which is small.
I think I probably need someone to remind me that things are still worth it. It’s that elusive knight in shining armour. But everyone I come across just reminds me that there aren’t. Which is another reason why I have distanced myself from further dating experiences. I am fed up of being reminded that being single is probably the safest option.
I am looking for new meaning in life to help clarify what I already have. One that no longer has to involve materialism or hooking myself to someone elses lifeplan. That’s a tricky thing to do because people are what inspire us and drive us and give us meaning in our worlds. Shared goals are great to have, but I am also aware how quickly I lose my own identity once I get caught up with someone. It’s just another hurdle.
I know there are plenty of people who go out into the wilds and turn their back on society and live their dream alone. I don’t think that’s me, although as an escape it could be suitably cathartic and clarifying. I am used to being inspired by other people’s dreams and ambitions and enthusiasms and I’m just not finding it anymore. You don’t get inspired by someone who finds you on an app and messages you because he wants to stick his dick in you, which is, I presume, what is intended by the mono-syllabic and uninspiring messages I get. If you were looking for something more deep and meaningful you would take the time to construct sentences, right? I wish it also worked the other way around. It doesn’t always. Some of the deepest and most meaningful conversations I’ve had with online daters are the ones who didn’t stick around.
It only serves to remind me that I am not real dating material, and that neither are they. I get it. This is most of online dating. And who needs that?