The holidays are rough

I don't need to go on a whole tirade about how much this time of year can suck. We all know this.

At best, we have someone to spend time with AND no traumatic childhood memories behind Christmas and New Year's Eve.

But more often than not, some of us think about the messed up things that happened on those days, forever marring our thoughts and those holidays. I know that as often as I think about watching a Christmas Story with my mom and laughing at Ralphie's brother Randy in that ridiculously puffy snowsuit, I think about my dad getting super drunk, berating my mom in front of people, and ruining our Christmas parties.

This year is no different. I don't think about the past as much anymore but I do think about the fact that my family and I don't celebrate the holidays together anymore. New York is a great place to be during the holidays, but it's almost like people are showing off how many holiday parties they can go to in less than a month. Or how big and happy their family is with their perfectly roasted chickens and matching red flannel pjs. I'm just mad I don't have that many holiday parties to attend. That's the real tragedy here.

You also feel the pressure to go see that damn tree. It's huge and beautifully lit up, but the place is also crawling with tourists...as is every other holiday-related thing. I can't deal with the crowds.

I'd rather stay in my room, nursing my broken heart and preparing my body for what's coming. What's the logical thing to do when you're at an emotional low point? Inject yourself with a crap ton of hormones, of course.

Egg freezing round two, here I come.