My first memory of Christmas was at age 2 1/2 looking up at a big decorated tree in a women's domestic violence shelter. We had just arrived after several days on a Greyhound bus.

I remember two very old hands handing me a handmade ragdoll that I still have, who I named "Babydoll". I held on to her and got some comfort from her, because my mom was too scared to actually try to comfort me.

I remember my mom trying to explain that I hadn't done anything wrong, but it didn't help any to feel like I hadn't. My entire childhood I knew I'd done something wrong. Eventually I realized my existing is why she ran. Which is literally and metaphorically true. She ran to protect me from my dad's addiction and abuse. I don't blame her, but it wasn't a pleasant experience.

For my entire childhood, Christmas was when I lost any sense of being part of a family...something my family only solidified when I was 14 after regaining contact and finding everything that my mom told me about them and why she ran was true, even more true than she had said.

Christmas isn't nice or fun for so many people. I'm one of them. I appreciate the beautiful lights, when it snows on Christmas day, and often I really do appreciate getting and giving meaningful and thoughtful presents, it's just really hard to forget my first remembered Christmas in the domestic violence shelter.

So I struggle to stay conscious this time of year. I struggle to not feel so afraid again or remember that feeling of losing everything.

When I was 6, I watched one of my favorite films, Meet Me in St Louis and heard Judy Garland sing Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas at age 6, the lyrics meant everything to me. It remains my Christmas song.

My childhood wish was to be part of a family, and I still want only to be part of a family all of these years later.

~e