Beloved reader, it's good to be back. Christmas. Dude, Christmas.
Now, as I'm sure y'all know, I'm down with the whole "Infinite Coming Into the Finite, the Uncreated Coming into the Created, the Perfect Coming Into the Fallen" thing. You, dear reader, you know I honor His mother, the Mother Mary, you know I honor Saint Joseph, you know I am continuously thankful for the grace I undeservedly receive.
But friend, I kinda hate Christmas.
Yeah, yeah, "Combat Queer, why are you such a Scrooge?" See friend, it's not that. I'm down with brotherly love, I'm down with cooked goose, I'm down with the whole idea of big-l Love and big-c Charity.
What am I not down with? The fucking... there's an amazing amount of pressure to enjoy yourself. There's this amazing amount of pressure to be happy, to not only love your family, but also always have loved your family with issue. There's this deep, awful idea that if you're less than ridiculous happy, you're a failure. And I hate that.
I spent much of my Christmas vacation explaining to aunts and uncles that, "No, Episcopalians actually do believe in Baptism. And yes, we not only read the Bible, but also believe that it is important." When I wasn't explaining that I hadn't completely rejected Christ(because of my Episcopalianism, to say nothing of the trans thing) I was listening to my father complain and whine about how hard his life is. How hard I've made his life.
It gets old. When somebody can't deal with your becoming an Episcopalian, how can they deal with your becoming a woman?
Fuck.
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