Coral’s Healing Room at Coralsblog.com 505-269-9242 iwritetohealmyself@gmail.com I rise early. I go to bed early. If you need me, I will make myself available to you.

If you’ve nowhere to be tomorrow, come home with us!

Good morning everyone! I woke up crying like I was fucking dying inside! Fuck! Groundhog Day lately and this girl is fucking tired. And so, I decided to write about how I’m feeling. Christmas Eve was always such a special day for our family. Christmas was always so special for our family. Christmas died in our family. At first, the death of Christmas registered pretty high on my pain scale. I was fucking devastated. At the cemetery weeping over my mother’s grave last week sometime, I realized that Christmas was down there in that box with her remains…dead and as gone as she is. It felt pretty dramatic and even I can admit that. Truth is; it wasn’t dramatic at all. Sherry was Christmas. Anyone who knew her for a quick minute knew that about her. Sherry was denied Christmas her whole childhood and she made up for it her entire adulthood. I was born into Christmas and all of its wonder in my childhood….Santa Claus and baby Jesus…the Christmas carols and the gifts…the Christmas cookies and Christmas tree and decorations. I had four decades of the most amazing Christmases you could possibly imagine and I thank my Mom for that. I still believe in Santa Claus and I still go down on my knees in reverence and love for baby Jesus. I went into enormous debt last year trying to do Christmas like Sherry did Christmas. I will never do that again. I may have filled some hearts but fuck was mine empty. My heart and my pocketbook…empty as a Monday morning church. (Thank you Alan Jackson). I learned that Sherry was Christmas in that cemetery. Coral is not Christmas. Coral is just Coral. I grieve. Fuck do I grieve during this time of year. This year through, as we begin new traditions, I am born again. I am born into my life. Please love me through this…I am so new at it. Who am I? How do I feel? What do I want? I am just beginning to figure all of that out.

Tamara and are beginning new traditions this year and I am excited. There is a tree in a box with a box of decorations next to it in our living room. Tamara made our tree out of a string of colored lights in our entry way and I fucking love it. We don’t have the time this year to deal with putting up and taking down a tree and so we don’t. We aren’t buying each other gifts, or anyone else for that matter, this year. We are simple and so we are keeping it simple. We are cooking for and breaking bread with and serving our homeless community this year and I couldn’t be more at home.

There is a certain and underlying sadness for the life and the Christmases I leave behind this morning. I feel a crack surge through my barely beating heart as I remember that my Mom is not going to be home for Christmas again this year. My mom and Christmas have left the building and I won’t lie…it fucking hurts me. I am crying as I write, for the woman I love and miss so fucking much. Jesus was the reason for my Moms season and my mom was the reason for my season and right now I just hurt. I am not without gratitude. I am not absent of my own reason for this season. This morning though, on the eve of my moms favorite holiday, three years later, fuck do I hurt!

I know many of you hurt too and that is why I write this morning. Not about jingle bells and sleigh rides…I write about empty sleighs and the sounds of silence. I write about my pain to let you know that I feel your pain. I know you lost your husband. I know that you lost your son. I know that you lost your mom. I know you lost your sister and your best friend on the same day. I am aware that this is your first Christmas trying to start over. I can’t help but notice that you are crying too. I know you lost your soulmate this year and that the divorce proceedings are taking place. I know you miss your kids and I know that you miss your Dad. I know you can’t have kids and I know that you feel that this time of year. I feel you feeling that and I love you. I know you have no one to celebrate Christmas with. I invite you to come be with us. Truly, if you’ve nowhere to be, come home with us. Private message me…comment here…reach out to me and I will reach back. You have somewhere to be…just like me. We are walking each other home and lots of people need us tomorrow, so come with us! Don’t be alone if you don’t want to, okay? I’m with clients today, so if I don’t answer, I will get back to you. I promise. I love you. We’ve got you.

In closing and reflection this morning, I want to acknowledge my best friend, my soulmate and my life partner, Tamara. I have loved before and I am thankful. I have been loved before and I am thankful. I am home now and I get it now. Tamara and I…ever the same and so different, believe and feel in the same ways about the things that matter most in this world to us. You matter. Every sentient being matters. All lives matter. No matter what is on our agenda today, We will fit it in, between our acts of service. Being of service is why we are here and always comes first. I am trying to make room for a few more client appointments in between our acts of service, to more comfortably pay our bills. Service work first. We are both working to shift this a bit and to put ourselves and each other on the list…on the top of the list, a lot more. Being home…being here…loving and being loved by Tamara…that’s Christmas to me.

I am here for you, you know? I mean to say that I am a real person. I will be here if you need me…if you say you need me. It may be a quick phone call. I may meet you for a hug…I will make a space for you if you ask me to. If you don’t ask, I have already placed you in my heart and will keep you safe and warm there as we get through this together, okay? I’ve got you. I love you. I’m praying for you. I feel you. I fucking love you!