Written by: Admin_SheEvo
I’m excited and scared at the same time because it’s that time of year again. Going home for Christmas has always made me feel a lot of different things, like love and worry. I should be happy about the thought of being with family, the comfort of familiar faces, and the smell of holiday meals, but I still have a knot in my stomach.
Going home for the holidays is not just about happy times spent with family and friends. Going home can carry the weight of memories from the past that come back to them in strange ways. It’s impossible to deny the laughing and love, but they’re built on old wounds that I’ve worked so hard to heal.
Deep down, I want to fully enjoy this time of year, taking part in all the routines, singing carols by the fire, and baking cookies with my family and friends. Still, there’s a cautious part of me that remembers hurts and fights from the past that can still be heard in the rooms of my childhood home.
That this year will be different, that the holiday joy will heal the pain that has been there for a while. I’m afraid that the celebrations will be ruined by the ghosts of the past, that old scars will reopen, and that the fragile peace I’ve worked so hard to build within myself will be broken.
There’s a fine line between hope and fear, between wanting to enjoy the season’s happiness and being afraid of remembering bad times. As I pack my bags, I’ll think about how these different feelings make me feel, because this trip home isn’t just a physical one; it’s also a mental one.
It’s possible that this year will bring a fresh start, a chance to change the way my holidays go. I’ll hold on to that hope and the belief that even though things are unclear, there is still a chance for healing and a fresh start.
Until then, I’ll take a deep breath, gather my strength, and start this familiar but scary trip home.