This Body is Bullshit

It’s Monday, coming off a weekend packed with more Christmas. The weather is doing that cruel Midwest thing—yesterday it was 50 degrees, today it’s about 7. Raw. Bitter. I really wish we’d had snow on Christmas, but overall, the holidays went really well.

I did make it to the Wilsons’ prime rib dinner—late. Delicious as always. Aunt Susie makes everything festive and beautiful and thoughtful. I love spending time with Maggie’s boys; they bring such good energy into a room. It was a little… odd, though. Maggie’s husband acted like he liked me, which is a whole long story I won’t get into. It started with a hug, which caught me completely off guard, since I’d previously been instructed not to hug him—or touch him at all. But whatever. We rolled with it and tried to keep things normal. That seems to be the theme lately.

Christmas Eve was relaxed and casual. We had fajitas from Alfredo’s, and the owner is just the sweetest man. He was so genuinely grateful for the business, and I hope his restaurant thrives—kindness like that deserves it. Grace was a little off—snippy with me and acting like I was the dumbest person in the room. When she gets like that, I never really know what’s going on in her emotional roller coaster. I try not to react in front of everyone, but I do calmly let her know I won’t be spoken to that way, reason with her is some way and she really won’t have it. I don’t think she even realizes when she is like this. Which is just odd with all her psychology background.My stepmom jokingly threatened to separate us at the table, which made me sad—because it was obvious everyone noticed—but we still laughed, ate well, and enjoyed being together with family and the dogs.

I do my best to create Christmas magic. I probably spend too much on presents, but I truly love giving gifts. I don’t really care about receiving them—though I did get a few nice ones—but watching people open gifts and (hopefully) love them brings me real joy.

Christmas morning at home was cozy and simple, still in pajamas. I didn’t get the backpack for Frank, but that’s okay. We got dressed and headed to our annual family brunch at the Wilsons’, which is always fun. We do a grab bag where stealing is encouraged and chaos ensues. Afterward, we came home and napped so I could mentally prepare for work on Friday.

Ken stayed with us from Wednesday through Sunday morning, which honestly felt really good. I was glad he wasn’t alone. He absolutely adores Fiona, and she loves him right back—good for both of them.

Yesterday was especially special. My stepsister and her family came over, which rarely happens since they live in New Jersey. Usually when they’re in Illinois, they’re up north with Kevin’s family and in the past, when Wes was still alive, it was hard to coordinate time together. I used to feel hurt, but I understand now. Chrissy was one of the first people I saw truly use boundaries as a way to survive, and I’ve tried to learn from that. Her making the effort to come down and spend time at our house and at Dad and Kathy’s meant a lot. We played games with the kids, and my heart felt full in that quiet, deep way. I miss them.

I took them to see the lights at our friends’ incredible property, which was magical. They had no idea what to expect and were completely blown away. They didn’t even realize that half the lights were out from a massive rainstorm earlier in the day—which was a bummer—but it was still incredible.

I love Christmas, but it definitely hits differently now. Having my cousins’ little kids and my stepsister’s kids around brings some of that magic back—especially now that Grace is an adult and that particular version of Christmas has passed. It’s sad, but it’s life. I still soaked it all in.

Physically, I’m dealing with a lot of pain, which makes everything more exhausting. The busyness of the holidays layered on top of everything else has made my brain fog worse—though I’m very grateful my oncologist assured me it’s not dementia, just meds. Underneath it all, there’s that quiet grief—missing my mom and now navigating my dad’s issues—that sneaks in when I least expect it. I’m sad it’s becoming so hard on Kathy. She’s overwhelmed and frustrated, and I don’t blame her. I just don’t know what to do.

Christmas is strange like that. It’s joyful and warm and fun… and also sad and heavy and melancholic. All at the same time.

I can’t help but wonder what 2026 will bring.