Family

Post originally scheduled for November 26

---

I was thrilled to find out yesterday that my parents have only invited over my aunts and one uncle for Christmas dinner. The past few years have been a mishmash of relatives and my parents weird-ass friends. Last year, I was seated next to one of my dad's friends, a man who tragically resembles Charles Manson, and his loud girlfriend. I watched her graze on the paella Mack Daddy Smooth had prepared and wondering if I was ever going to be able to escape. If you never stop putting one large spoonful after another of food on your plate, we're never going to be able to move on to the next course and I will be stuck on this uncomfortable wooden chair all night and I don't know how I'm going to get out of here and before I literally started hyperventilating, I said I was too warm and went in the living room to calm down. King V followed me, unfortunately, and I tried to explain that I needed a minute. I don't think he understands introversion or anxiety or panic attacks, which makes me feel embarrassed and ashamed, and in the moment, I am too flustered to explain properly. We also have 'I don't understand your issue' history. Years ago when I worked for him, I called in sick for two days once because I had a migraine (and, on the second day, a kind of migraine hangover). When I returned to work, he told me he had decided one day, years ago, that he no longer wanted to have migraines and they just stopped. I had to leave the room because it was the closest I have ever come to actually wanting to stab someone.

Thankfully, this Christmas will be restricted to my parents, my brother, two aunts, and one of the aunt's husbands, which means we'll be able to sit at one table. I won't have to play nice with serial killers and chatterboxes of questionable sanity and talent. I won't be shoved in the corner (insert Dirty Dancing moment here) and I can just be with people I actually like and love. Also, there will be liquor. And pie.