It's been seven years since we were with my family on Christmas Day. Two of those years we were hunkered down at home with a newborn/about to give birth. The other five years we have spent with my husband's family. My father-in-law has been terminally ill for 12 years, and it's a miracle that he has lived this long. We've truly thought that every year has been his last Christmas, but this year, I really think it's his last.
He has recently discovered that he enjoys just kind of rubbing my head and running his fingers through my very short hair. He says it's soft and very nice. The other night, he actually ejaculated from doing nothing but running his hand around the back of my head. It's made the whole thing weird to realize he's sexualized it that much.
My husband of more than 20 years gives me slipper socks with grippy soles. I hate them! We live in a hot climate, so I have little use for them. They filled up my sock drawer and retraumatized me every time I touched them. I threw them away and they came back. He gave me five more pairs at Christmas. They can't be worn with shoes or out in public.
The last few years I've just started telling him and everyone around us that I don't like music and don't care for it in the background. I'm not embarrassed, it just hurts my ears, literally. I realize it brings him/them joy, but how much joy do I tolerate at my extreme discomfort? I actually used to really like, even love, some music, but now I completely hate it. Hating music is now part of my personality, which I never intended.