Flax-Golden-Tales

I've had my depressive little moods at late... one thing about chaos, is that someone with anxiety never quite knows just what to do with it. And I've had it in spades, and while some have been willing to talk it out, I kept thinking, "No, they have their own issues, they don't need mine on top of them!" So I was attempting to honestly show love, peace and joy... because I feel that is what we are, regardless of belief, put here on this earth to do! And I was failing! I had to catch and fight myself before falling prey to my demons that I fight daily.
I got a surprise gift... a friend took me to church as I said, last blog. I love the serenity of a late night mass. This one was different... no "You do as we say, we are the Church"... it was not Rockwell perfect, indeed, not only did we read from Matthew and Luke, but the Koran, and the birth of the Young Buddha. There had been a llama there earlier, the priest and my friend were joking with me that they were sorry I'd missed it!
Then, I went to an Open AA meeting. Yes, everything that happens there, stays there, and I had trouble finding an NA, but I began my Christmas at an AA meeting at 1 AM. I began my morning saying
"My name is Beth, and I'm an addict- to crank and to self mutilation. I have been clean since October 2008."
But... I fight myself, and those demons daily. I cannot judge another, I am not worse than, or better than any other person fighting for themselves.
Christmas was going to suck this year. Big time.
Grandma's been gone since August, I wrote her a letter for her birthday in November. Aunt Marcia's been gone a year now, her husband, now remarried after dating someone since January of this year (2010) is kind of a scary pervert. Sadly, I don't know how to broach his scary last message to me to anyone, so I kind of keep that to myself and hope I'm wrong. It started with "Let's get together for se..." I hope there's an explanation, because otherwise, a 60 year old man I considered family saw me as more than I'd want him to. Grandma and I tended to be the Peace Makers. I am told I am too sensitive by most of my family, that I just can't tolerate an argument... it's so weak of me. The infighting and greed, even with a will in a lawyer's hands, scares the hell out of me. I was tempted so many times. Occasionally, I found myself attempting to let someone else unload, that in being the wall, the shoulder to cry on, I could find a safety valve of my own. Because I didn't know how or what to say, and hate hearing "Beth, you're too honest. Learn to lie, learn to hide"... so often.
Yeesh, what a bundle here.

I've made my own family to an extent... I don't care what you believe, what you don't, who or what you are or have done.
My basic attitude is: Come on in, we'll eat cookies, tell silly stories, mock ourselves if we so choose, for a giggle...
If you are a dreamer, come on in
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, 
A hoper, a pray-er, a magic bean- buyer,
If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire
For we have some flax-golden tales to spin
Come in!
Come in!
-Invitation, by Shel Silverstein, from Where the Sidewalk Ends.