This picture of my ex-husband and me was taken on Christmas night of 2013. That same morning, we had gotten up early to open presents from Santa with my son, at the time only a few months old, and my daughter, who was two. I made a pot of coffee and cinnamon rolls; I remember the house smelled so good, and the kids had lots of fun things to open. We had a fire going in the fireplace. The mood of that morning quickly shifted, starting out as a normal, seemingly happy family memory, turning into a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.
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Confessional #25808843 "I'm tired of Christmas. It seems like I just keep buying the same shit year after year. They love it when they unwrap it, then a week later I see it tossed onto their floor. Absolutely pointless."
