Breathe in... aaaaaand

This is it. I have decided to just rip off that old band-aid. The one that was covering my wounded psyche but has now, over time and neglect, turned yellow and become frayed at the edges - not to mention crusty...
What am I scared of anyhow?
Maybe this is just the big reveal. Like an extreme make-over. But I think what I'm afraid of is that I won't look better. I may even look worse.

I have spent the past year processing the realization that I have a different father than the one who raised me, that I have met and formed a relationship with said father and that my mom and he have recently gotten married.
I have also learned a very important lesson. Acceptance is never a static process.

So after my hibernation, I now find myself gearing up for that favourite of all "family" holidays - Christmas.
The tree is trimmed, the cookies are baking, the presents are bought and expectation looms brightly.
However, my mind is already projecting ahead to the let-down that is January. Bleak February. Dreary March. And isn't it always the case that what was once strange and shocking and hard to handle becomes normal. Or do I become crazy? Does it really matter?

What I do know is that I am still breathing, I still like food and wine and that I am lucky to know many creative, funny and loving people...who love me .

So, the band-aid's off. What's underneath?
A scar set above thickened skin. A mark, a memoir. I'll add it to my collection.
I feel like the Bride of Frankenstein.