It is what it is…or is it really?

​It is what it is…or is it?

“It is what it is sissy.” The big quote from our Christmas 2025. Add to it the uncle Joe hand toss up and shrug and it solidified the way our family has come to rationalize everything since August 2009. 

Mom died? It is what it is. We couldn’t fix it. 

Dad detached? It is what it is. He’s gonna do what he wants to do.

Things feel unfair? It is what it is. 

Can’t fix what ails you? Is what it is. 

You sad? Depressed? Anxious? Is what it is. 

Something became glaringly obvious  in our talks on Christmas Eve. People (read: us. And more particularly me) who say this phrase have no way or want to explain their hurt, pain, frustration, or loss. We feel a world of helplessness. We feel abandonment. We feel a loss of control. Our center is gone. Our life before mom died is gone. Our normal is gone. In that, we have struggled to find what we are now. For me, I’m mad. Detached. Hurt. Endlessly depressed; especially at this time of the year.  

Personally, I have come to despise Christmas. I am torn into bits. I pretend. A lot. A really lot. I used to love it. Now I feel guilt. Massive guilt. I should love this shit. I should love decorations, lights, music, being together. I shouldn’t have this massive resentment. But I do. And to top it off, I have massive guilt that I can’t fully enjoy it like all these people who make Christmas their personality for several months. I don’t want to disappoint. I don’t want to be called a grinch and or a Scrooge. Instead I try to participate in hopes it will help, change my mind, make me love it. I still enjoy giving gifts. But I love that all year. I love Christmas lights, but my joy in it is tempered by my desperation for it to be the way it was. It never will be. 

This goes beyond the season. The “it is what it is” infiltrates everything. Can’t explain it? Is what it is. Someone ghosts you? Is what it is. 

But it’s bullshit. It hurts. You’re embarrassed. You are disappointed. Yet you don’t want to say that because…well, because it’s easier than facing it or confronting the ones who did the hurting. I personally find every reason on their side to rationalize the behavior. Their choice. Then I’m even more sad. So I’m hurting twice or thrice. Or in my case, every time I think about it. Which is all the time. I mean, if you didn’t know I was an over thinker you’ve missed one of my top five personality flaws. (And that’s on you for once.) 

So what do you do? If you know me, the things that people, especially people around here say to do do me no good. (I almost said little to no good because I’m me and didn’t want to upset anyone with my obvious religious non affiliation). The thoughts and prayers ain’t gonna do it for me. 

Unless I start getting some real DGAF anytime soon, I’m not calling people and telling him what I want to tell him. I’m not going to text people and tell them how they hurt or disappointed me or disrespected my kid. I’ve done that once before and it changed absolutely nothing except exacerbate my anxiety and amplify their hatefire for me. 

The doc last week said I didn’t need more meds. I think she a liar but whatever. Maybe I need to go back to therapy. Does a 2 hour convo with my two unofficial therapists at Starbs count? I’m running out of viable options here. 

So legit “it is what it is?” Good lord I hate it here.