It should be a minor thing, really but, not having other people in your life care about things that matter to you is so deeply isolating. I understand with some things… I don’t expect anyone else in my family to care about snails or teddy bears. And even though it hurts, I understand if only my mom cares about our immigration anniversary.
But there are other things, too. Only I care about decorating the house for Christmas. Only I care about planning the holiday meals when we host. Only I care if the house looks nice for family when they visit. And my caring about these things instead of just “letting them happen” (magically I guess, with zero preparation) is “neurotic”. I feel like I cannot win. What am I even supposed to do. No one is going to do the things I care about for me, but me. But caring enough to do them is somehow bad, too.
Even worse is being reminded of how slow I am at those preparations. They’re so hard for me to do all alone, but the fact that it takes me days to do them is of course bad, too. And I can’t help being bad at some things. I’m bad at a lot of things, but I’m still trying so hard.
But none of it should matter at the end of the day, because Christmas is probably going to get canceled anyway, so screw trying. Why try? I’m the only one who cares. I’m the only one who will be disappointed by canceled plans. It doesn’t matter to anyone else. Why do I even pretend it does?
I just can’t put into words how completely alone all this makes me feel though. Almost as if I didn’t have anyone else. There are some joys and worries in life that I need shared, or else, everything feels pointless.