I had a fight with my sister on Christmas Day. She greeted me rudely in the morning when we went to open our stockings, and I tried to calmly confront her later about it, the way Stephen and I try to confront each other about actions we perceived as wrong.

She didn't listen at all. She got defensive, and something in me snapped and I couldn't let it go. I still can't, but it got to a point where I finally realized how useless it was to pursue the conversation, and I dropped it.

In the middle of it, my grandfather tried to intervene and calm me down by trying to get me to sweep it under the rug...Like my family does with everything. Like I have learned is absolutely unhealthy for relationships and would dearly love to change both in me and in my family at large.

So what I had hoped would be a good conversation leading to repentance and mutual understanding turned into a war and filled me with regret over the tragic way my family "handles" things, or doesn't handle them.

The only blessing that came of it was the miracle that my grandfather tried to hug me in the middle of the war. It was the most beautiful thing he has ever done for me, and I am still trying to tell him so.

After I dropped it, my family all continued with Christmas preparations as if nothing had happened, the way they always do. Later that day when I had a moment where I wasn't needed in the kitchen, I went upstairs and did my devotions, because I realized with shame that not doing them that morning had played a part in leading to the destructive fight.

After devotions I started crying, finally, and it was the angriest, most feverish, wretched crying I've done in a long time. Stephen eventually found me and I beat up my pillow and sobbed with despair and agony into it. Mostly what I said was, "It's so pointless. It's so %!*# pointless." Referring to the hope I've had and the subtle efforts I've made for the last two years toward guiding my family into better handling of sin and conflict.

So that's what my entry a couple days Christmas was about.

I didn't bring up the conflict for the rest of my time with my family, although I dearly wanted to. I was at war with myself trying to decide if I should or not. I only had one more day with them, essentially, since we left on Thursday, and I didn't want to make things even worse without sufficient time to also get them to be better. The issues in my family run so deep that I finally realized it was more than I could handle by myself with only one day left with them. So I said nothing.

I kept to myself for much of the time with Stephen's family. I felt a little bad, but Stephen's family seems to understand me better than my own, somehow. Nobody tried to fix me, which I think is what I needed. Sometimes I heal better by myself. By the end of the weekend, I won't say I was feeling normal--because I'm still not feeling normal--but I did get to a place where it wasn't plaguing my steps every day.

I'm contemplating calling Focus on the Family's counseling help line. You get to call once for free. I'm not sure if they try to set you up with a local counselor after that or what. I'm not even sure if it's worth trying, and my will to try anything uncertain is very weak right now. But calling them still hovers at the back of my mind for consideration.

I guess that's all. Until next time, diary.

-Stephanie

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