I won't be home for christmas.

When I left home, there was emotional baggage [to say the least] and though I managed to forget most of it scattered about the house, still some of it lingered along past state borders and nestled it's way into my Iowan life of content.

How?

Some say it's love. Some say it's guilt.

I call it winter hibernation.
Oh the joys of a first snowfall in time for the holidays.

My mother and I rarely saw eye to eye while I lived at home with just her through high school while my sister lived her life at college.
I came home to fights, and problems I had always hoped to be gone when I woke the next morning. But somehow, at the end of the week, there, sitting at the edge of my bed they just simply compiled into one heaping mass of dirty laundry.

So naturally, the opportunity for adulthood and freedom from dictatorship arose, and I took it. Gladly. I accepted my career as a student, 7 hours south from the place I called home was. But where my heart rarely resided. It took no time to adjust, it felt right for me to be making my own decisions, suffering from the consequences and learning from each mistake.

I will never deny that my mother has taught me well, and I respect her above all other people for raising children as a single parent. Always.

Yesterday, I reminded her that I will be spending my christmas break with my boyfriend and his family in Des Moines. Not with my family. Not in Brainerd or Pine River. Not in MINNESOTA. A fact that she had known two months in advance when I spoke to her, asked if it would be alright to do so, in which she replied, "I don't care, do what you want."
Not in an encouraging tone, I will admit. But I made plans regardless.
She remembered speaking breifly of the matter, but explained that the only reason she had said what she has said was because she knew if she had said anything otherwise, I would have hung up the phone that instant.

Blame me if you want, for not wanting to come home to that same old dirty laundry that I know for certain is STILL at the foot of my bed. Spilling onto the floor at this point, I would imagine.
Go ahead.

If I go home against my will and in spite, it will only make matters worse.
I didn't appreciate being told I was a liar. I didn't appreciate fights over spilt milk.
I didn't appreciate not being appreciated.
I lived my life as a showcased pet. Sit. Stay. Lay down.
It was the same routine with my mother day in and day out.
Now that I'm rid of it, it's hard to even want to be within a 3 hour radius.

I will go home in my own time, and I will be happy to do so.
By force, I am still just an obediant dog with no thought for my ownself, but only in regard to what expectations are given to me by another.
I'm not ready.
But I will be, and hopefully it will be acceptable for me to throw that laundry out...
But if not, I am happy where I am, and where I'm going.

And family is family.
I worry about nothing - time heals all.

peace & ♥: KA