Black Friday
That phrase, "Black Friday," didnae become real to me until 2007 when I heard it in Ecuadorian Spanish amid a group of Shop-a-holics lusting after a shopping visa which would allow them to experience the infamous U.S. Black Friday. The English words, "Black Friday" verily jumped out of the Spanish conversation. They smacked like a pinata at a Little League birthday party. None of the conversants knew what Thanksgiving was, but Black Friday was their Holy Grail. Dreamier than the walk in the Andean clouds which I was in Ecuador to study. They had walked in the Andean clouds every day of their lives and had the lungs to prove it. Ecuador has far more glacier-tipped mountains which peek above the clouds than shopping malls. This week, at least. Those glaciers are disappearing faster than they can reform above the equatorial tropics below.
I finally got around to doing an etymology on the phrase this morning. 'Tis far from the most consistent etymology on the internet, but I favor the set which credits the phrase to accountanting practices. Most retail outlets operate "in the red" aka: at a loss for most of the year. The day after Thanksgiving is the day they begin to turn a profit, aka: "operate in the black."
Certainty unavailable, but today might make the first time in my life that I have gone shopping on Black Friday. Well. . . The deed has yet to be done, but as of last night, Big Bro and Big Sis were pretty determined to make the Grand Opening at the Christmas Tree Farm today. I mentioned the event during our first tour of the new house and it has been the talk of the season ever since. It was still a fun, light hearted dialogue last night but this morning finds me with panick attacks at the thought of entering those unpredictable crowds. Thoughts are far more demonic than physics will allow, especially in my broken brain. Breathing. . .
Even with the panick attacks, I believe I will still leave the mood icon for this entry at "Okay." I have worked with meaner. So far. . .
Just breathe. Saluting all psycho nag flags. Stepping small and praying big.
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Hope you all find a nice tree. I for one wont be shopping for Black Friday. People get crazy and its too much noise.
Hugs, a lot of extra strength and lots of support Arfie.
Black Friday & Psyber Monday are why after having my youngest daughter, I started getting almost all my holiday shopping finished by the end of September, mid-October at the latest.
The past three years I’ve failed to even come close to that SOP. Honestly, as I have no personal income and rely on a weekly allowance from my husband..., it’s not surprising in the last two years I haven’t gotten all the shopping done in advanced.
I’m not looking forward to filling up the space under the tree this year but for me there’s nothing that will get me to go out on Black Friday. I already can’t handle shopping in malls off season..., during season is a guaranteed major anxiety crisis and Black Friday is an one way trip to a ER/72 hour psych hold.
Good luck my friend. You are a far braver soul than I.
I am kinda hoping that a Christmas tree farm has a more tranquil ambiance than a department store or mall. In actual fact, I have only rumor and innuendo to guess by. My shopper SOP is to avoid it at all costs, all twelve months of the year. Not that my avoidance tactics work any better there than in any other psychosis. Even in wilderness survival mode, I'm contemporary enough to buy milk rather than travel with a cow.
So far, the forces havenae come together for the adventure. At present, the sisters are napping and even Big Bro is on the chill side of readiness. Hubs and I are just going with the flow. Que sera sera.
I've never had a real tree, I hear there is a shortage this year. New kitten will likely prevent much decorating at our house. As far as shopping, I've done a few online purchases. My birthday is next week so fiance is taking me out tomorrow night to celebrate. He got a hotel near an outlet mall. I'm sure it will be packed but we still plan to shop Sunday. I've never gone on actual Black Friday because I'm never off that day. I also don't deal well with crowds. My reflexes are too fast, and my hateful mouth faster. My fiance has much better luck.
One more don't head out on Black Friday person here. The Christmas tree farm should be less crowded as folks head for the stores. Support as needed.
Christmas tree acquired. No special sales, so not much crowd and the trees were best of season.
The children are much more content now. One reason I prefer old houses over new is dislike for the fresh industrial compound smells of new construction. Ya gots to *pay me* good money to put up with those. They smell too much like work for my chill space. Life willing, the fresh cut Fraser pine will help remedy that. Just hoping. . .
I'm avoiding "Black Friday" at all costs, arfie. Not even going to the grocery store. Got all of my provisions stocked up before the holidays. Crowds in stores with my PTSD are not a recipe for holiday joy for me. Trimming a nice Christmas tree with the kids, though, could be. Hope you find a good one.
Yea, Muji, I figure this isnae a safe topic for the PTSD forum. I understand yuletide trauma all too well, but my strictly personal healing journey feels a need to progress on the subject. Healing happens. Proof unavailable, but I believe it has happened to me. I only believe. Giving ^it^ the ol' college try. Freshman level. . .
The still naked tree is now watered in its stand in the new house. Hubs and Baby Sis sat that step out in what warmth the old house has to offer on this chill, foggy day. Big Sis wasn't much help with the moving, etc., but she enjoyed the show in her 3 year old style. There is no electricity yet and the tree is the only furnishing. Big Bro and I decided that giving the tree a day or three to adjust to its new environment would be the kindest thing to do.
While we were there, we christened both toilets. Both elder siblings put as much drama into that ceremony as setting the tree. Maybe more. At 3 and 6, flushing a toilet can generate humorous drama.
Two toilets. . . One of the mysteries I still haven't retrieved from my damaged memory is how in the world my birth clan managed to survive 13 people (sometimes more), sharing a single bathroom. Some memories are too traumatic for retrieval? The current day drama of 5 people in one small bathroom is challenging enough.
Im glad you got the tree, , and the kids are content. Now, on a side note, kudos for braving the world on black friday! Just the thought of it makes me quake. Triple hugs
Healing happens. I believe it has happened to me. A recurring theme in my strictly personal PTSD recovery is that ideas are far more terrifying than reality. With every hurdle I've jumped, even when I land awkwardly on the other side of the hurdle, I find myself on the other side wondering how I made a demon out of a patiently waiting friend. However much I understand the mechanics of ^it^, I still often feel silly for ^it^ when I finally find the way to let go. I still need to ply therapy tools to that silly feel to prevent self-flagellating for the crime of being human. Humans are silly critters by nature.
Still. . . This particular jump isnae one I would have taken for myself. The 3 very young children so recently traumatized by the loss of both parents and life as they knew it are responding well enough to make me believe it is worth the effort.
I miss retirement. . .
I believe healing's happened to me, too, arfie. Of course, my evidence is only anecdotal when I wake up alive (as opposed to waking up dead?) every morning. That alone defies the odds of childhood for folks like you and me, doesn't it? I'd miss retirement, too. Only 18 months left before mine, and it had better go as planned, at least for a little while, or I'll be ticked off.
Get ready to get ticked off, my friend. I have yet to see a transition as big as retirement go as planned. There always seems to be at least one fly in the ointment. You know what *They Say* about the surest way to hear God's laughter. Tell Her your plans. . .
And I still reserve the right to call you by your acronym, Gnarly Old Dickhead! ! !