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For most of us, the holidays are a wonderful time of celebration with
close family and friends, lots of good food, and plenty of laughter. But for
those who come to the Mission, Christmas is often a reminder of neglect, or
even abuse. Here, in his own words, Mike tells the story of dealing with the
painful memories from Christmas past...
The Year Christmas Died
By Mike
(Reprinted from the UGM Newsletter, Twin Cities
Messenger - December, 2008)
 Growing
up, Christmas was all about Santa Claus, gift-giving, and presents under the
tree. When Grandma died, Christmas died with her.
After that, we didn’t gather with family
for Christmas anymore. It just became regular day. No presents. No tree. No
celebration. It made me sad because I used to really look forward to
Christmas.
At school, I used to lie to the other
kids. I’d say I was going to Grandma’s for Christmas and then, afterwards,
I’d say I got a new bike but I’m keeping it in Grandma’s garage.
Years later, I spent the holidays getting
into trouble. I guess I was upset because I lost the attention I wanted. So
I started smoking and drugging and stealing. This year, I’ll celebrate
Christmas for the first time in 30 years.
I’m kind of scared, like I don’t belong.
I don’t know whether I’ll have too much fun, or not enough fun. I just don’t
want to be laughed at.
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