But if I cry now, maybe I won't cry on the plane

Norah and I went to see The Family Stone tonight at the Chestnut Hill Theater. We were feeling antisocial. I don't know, really, what Norah's excuse was, but mine was pre-homecoming anxiety.

Which made this movie a poooor choice indeed. Ms. Norah dropped me off outside of my lovely apartment, and as we said Merry Christmas I was teetering a bit. She said, "You really hate going home that much?"

It's funny, when I actually choose to tell people anything about my family, I just choose a parent. "It's really hard because my mom..." "It's really hard because my dad..." It's silly to say anything because it's all hard. Norah suggested I scream at people before they're drunk. I didn't bother telling her that there doesn't seem to BE a 'before.'

I was just thinking about my teenagerhood in that house. I think it was last night... OH, this is what it was. I go to this salon on Boylston - very expensive, but I finally get good haircuts - and they offer a massage before the shampoo. I always decline. I don't like massages; they hurt, and they remind me of my senior year. I went to physical therapy for my back for a few months before I gave up. The pain and shame were excruciating.

Thinking about that made me remember the really bad days, when my mom would just drive me home and tuck me into bed and call the high school for me. I was absent about once a week for three months. I remembered lying on my back, staring at the ceiling, letting the tears slide into my ears and tickle there. I remembered the long hot baths, trying to soak out all the demons. I remembered my mother knocking frantically to make sure I was still breathing in there, remembered imagining all the things she imagined. When I go home now that bedroom, the bathroom, a certain chair in the living room... they're all demons. If the house were empty for Christmas, I wouldn't be alone.

That sounded a little dramatic and cliche, and I apologize. It's silly to even say that I'm anxious about going home; everyone knows this about me, right? Old news. I guess I'm just perplexed that I can't seem to do anything to help it. I've seen my parents more often, voluntarily. I spent a good weekened with my brother Dan. I'm trying to keep up. I guess I'm trying to keep ahead. It doesn't lessen this panic. My throat will not dilate.