A Silent Christmas Eve

11:30 pm

The darkness lurched across the room, collecting the soft snores of the small bundle encased in a pile of blankets of his own making.

The pile of clothes next to the bed in a hamper is threatening to topple over. Reminding me that the last $8 I had, I spent them buying my son his Wendy’s meal that he had begged me for for days.

I sighed. Resigning myself to look back towards my computer monitor, a tab was open to Craigslist’s job search. I had already applied for anything and everything I could these past few days.

Another sigh escaped, and I clicked the ‘X’ but the mouse arrow was nowhere to be seen.

I turned it on and off. No arrow.

I took out the battery and tried warming it with my hands. It felt like the right thing to do before I put it back in. Still no arrow.

I stood up. Stretched my back before looking at the floor, where my son had constructed a train set he received for his birthday earlier this year. Tip-toeing around, I made my way to my underwear drawer, where, if any, batteries would be placed.

I searched around the edges, shoved through my folded socks and underwear. Nothing.

I moved over to the opposite side of the closet to search some makeshift cabinets I made out of bookshelves and scrap wood from Home Depot. Nothing.

My heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach and down the depths of my large intestine.

Defeated, I fixated on the time glaring back at me through my phone.

11:43 pm

It was then that the desktop fell into sleep mode due to the lack of activity.

Then the darkness encircled me, graciously taking me into his arms. There was nothing left.

No Christmas lights. No Christmas tree.

Fifteen minutes away from Christmas morning, and I had to put my son to sleep because there wasn’t anything.

The peace I felt coated over the chaos of sadness dripping from my heart.

I had nothing for him.

But he deserved everything.

11:47 pm

Self-sabotage.

It wasn’t something I wanted to do. It wasn't something I thought I deserved.

On the contrary, I thought I deserved more. I thought I deserved better. And I do!

But with my responsibilities, I went about it the wrong way.

I had a job, a PAYING job.

I might’ve been living paycheck to paycheck, but I was surviving well enough. Now, I’m doing DoorDash whenever I can, taking shifts on WorkWhile just to eat because I can’t even afford the bills piling up.

I had stability.

Was I happy? No.

But instead of using that as a stepping stone, I gave it up.

I was miserable, but nothing shakes misery more than not having a strong foundation.

I had something, and I gave up on an idea.

An idea that could have been pursued, an idea that could have been explored, an idea that could have been turned into a reality if I had believed in myself.

Instead, here I am, the day before Christmas, wallowing in the misery, chaos, and darkness that I created.

11:55 pm

The small bundle remains breathing softly.

I take a notebook and a pen out of my storage boxes, covered in dust, that I keep under my bed.

My hands begin to move on the first empty page I can find, and I write.

The tears well up in my eyes as the feelings pour out of me.

At the beginning of the year, I started my running journey because I was experiencing mental, physical, and emotional abuse in my own home.

In the middle of the year, I crafted a plan to better my life by going back to school and pursuing a high-paying degree.

At the end of the year, I gave up the stability of my paying job for the hope of a career I did not even want.

The soul-crushing truth, I was not born into a world where struggling wasn’t an option.

If I want my son to have a better life, I need to do better.

I need to be strategic. I need to be accountable. I need to be more resilient than I have ever been.

And I need to remember.

Remember the feelings of sorrow, dejection, despair. These disgusting emotions feed into my depression, keeping me in the darkness’ embrace. I want to remember so that I never forget to keep going, even when I fall.

Because it is okay to fall, it is never okay to not get back up.

12:00 pm

Next year, there will be lights, a tree, gifts, a bigger room, or even an apartment of our own. There will be dessert and tamales, champurrado and buñuelos.

My small bundle will be awake, and he will be smiling at me when he opens his presents.

P.S. I almost did not submit this story out of fear. And while I am afraid of putting my work out there. I found that I am more afraid of staying where I am right now, nowhere.