I've got this ability… to say the completely wrong thing at the wrong time.  Or maybe it's just that when I think I'm tactfully trying to make things better in a situation where I know things can be… I should just suck it up and keep my mouth shut.
 
Things build up… you get frustrated… stressed… and the idea to make things easier… to do everything possible to make things easier on others seems like the right thing to do… doesn't it?  In doing so… in voicing the idea to make things easier… I made things worse.
 
All I want is to make it better.  I want to make it easier… I'm still taking a large portion of the burden on myself, but I'm trying to find the happy medium… take it on, but not get stuck with so much that the day that was to be spent happy and cheerful and awake… is more often than not, spent in a bit of a stupor from lack of sleep and working so hard that I'm just tense and un happy.
 
I made mom cry.  and then of course I start crying and I don't know how to make it better.  So I make it a little bit worse before I can finally find the right words to make it better.  Hours later… over three hours later and I finally walk up to her, wrapped my arms around her and told her the words I wanted and needed to say.  'None of this matters… not a bit of it matters if you weren't here to celebrate it with us.  We're all just happy that you're still here… that we have more time with you.'
 
We're all stupid.  Myself included… She tries so hard… and she wants to make new tradditions since Gramma was put in a home, and later passed away.  She should have everything… she should have the space and energy to have those tradditional parties and have us all together.  And she shouldn't have any one of us complaining about it.  Complaining about gifts… whether it be that there are too many, not enough, what they are.  Gifts really are the thought… being thought of… and about… and being picked because when they were picked out it was because someone thought 'She/He would really like this.'
 
I took this week off from work… because I needed the time away from my job.  But I also took it off because I knew this week would be stressful.  It is every single year.  Helping mom into the wee hours of the night and early morning… getting up early for the breakfast brunch… putting the time and effort in to being the good daughter and sister to everyone and knowing that when everyone else leaves for their in-laws celebrations… I'm going to stay back and help clean it all up again… and spend the evening with dad and mom… making it nice… and being happy that everyone had a nice day here. 
 
I just am so tired.  I'm so unbelieveably tired.  I've been tired since last Thursday… I can't get enough sleep…and I can't do enough.  I love mom… and all I want is for her to have a nice holiday.  I want her to be happy… I hope i did the right thing… I hope everyone else gives her the day she wants and deserves.  I hope I can make it through the rest of my vacation without making her feel bad. 
 
When she started crying… I felt like the biggest fuckup alive.
 
And although she says she's ok now… I still feel stupid.
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