I know it’s a bit early. But if I was only a child, I’d be on your knee right now, talking to you about stupid stuff like toys, etc. But guess what? I’m 35, no kids, no real house with a chimney, fireplace, and all theh fixings of a Christmas house. Santa, I believed in you for years, and I’ve seen a pattern of stuff going on in kids these days. While somem are saying, oh my god, kids are so spoiled, you know what I also see? Stupid, evil, abusive men. I see men who hit and beat up their wives and children, and the children write you letters saying, I want Mommy to have a ggood husband who does not beat her, won’t beat me up, etc. There are “elves” so to speak here in the real world who read your letters, and their hearts break. I don’t know if my letter will ever be seen by the elves here, but I know what I want for Christmas this year. Please tell me I’m not spoiled for asking this. I didn’t want to ask for anything but a modest clean house with a good walkable neighborhood, friends and a family and community that would support me in raising a child who will believe in you. I have always wanted a child, but that child needs more than I can give, but I would never want my own flesh and blood in the hands of someone who doesn’t get it. Let me begin at the beginning.
It all started with creepy crawly bugs in my apartment, maybe a neighbor has them, I don’t quite know. My longterm care provider, who is excellent and tops in all the things she does, basically had to stop showing up through no fault of her or her supervisor’s. I’m totally blind, and this building sucks. I have been stuck here for ten years in HUD public housing in Denver, Colorado, and I’ve seen my share of heartbreak. My partner and I don’t want to raise a child here in this run down … well, what I like to call a bug infested chateaux sometimes or a run down chateaux. The reindeer couldn’t get on the thirteen story roof and no way do you wanna go down thirteen stories to give presents to all these people who have either forgotten or don’t think you should be here. Some have kids and grandkids, but the grandkids visit on periodic times. I am only 35 years old, have never felt the pains of childbirth, and I have never forgotten you. You have many names, St. Nicholas among them, and if I were Catholic, I’d be asking you to bring me a child, whether through the foster system or by my own body. But alas, a job would have to be procured, but honestly, I don’t think it’s safe for me to have a job. I just want to change the world so that people can be here safely, not kill each other with guns and stuff, not call each other bad names or get unnecessarily bent out of shape just because I did something I had to do.
So the story is that I posted something about a house, an apartment, I just want a safer roof over my head, and families and such. While I have been blind my whole life, I know how this world treats us, but it is also a division of have and have nots. I have a really cool partner who I’d love to know what his child would look like, and all the good things that come with having a child. I’d raise that child to just let their imagination run wild, and every Christmas Day, I want for that child to wake up in a modest house, and I didn’t even post that I wanted a designer mansion in Beverly Hills for God’s sakes, but that’s how two people on my Facebook page perceived it. I don’t want a guide dog, I said, just a small spaniel puppy and nothing too special. I didn’t say I wanted a big yard, so I said I would get a dog with no requirement of a big yard. And the nasty comments came in. “You’re a spoiled brat. How can you afford this and you can’t even feed yourself?” what insults. Santa, I want those people to get rocks and … no, coal is too humane. How about environmentally friendly reminders of how mean they were?
Santa, the girl who also said I wasn’t living reality should get a hallucination from somewhere beyond, and then she’ll start talking to it, and then she’ll ask, is this real? Well, I don’t and have never had hallucinations so … what the hell she was doing was wrong. I’d give her a shrunken brain for Christmas with the words engraved like as follows:
Santa says you’ve been naughty, so here’s the scoop. All you get for Christmas is this … your shrunken brain. There you know what I mean?
My ex boyfriend, I’ve mentioned him here before, I don’t want him to get but anything for Christmas. He claims he has the best life, all those stupid friends of his who don’t even know my name, and frankly, I don’t know who he is anymore. I said in a live feed that he wouldn’t let me have a vibrator and all this and that, but truth is I liberated myself from this stupid prison called this is a sin and that is a sin. Santa, women want freedom and love and that’s it. Children have imaginations, and trust me, it was a child’s imagination and later an adult’s frustration that led to many inventions and concepts. For Christmas, I wish you’d just leave my ex’s stocking empty, and a note that says, you’ve been naughty, so here’s the thing: come Christmas you shall not be able to sing. My exes don’t need to be involved in my search for an apartment.
Do me a big favor, though, please give my caregiver more tools for her profession. Give her a vacuum cleaner that works. Brooms are cool. Please give her more money in her pay pack, and don’t let anyone give her migraine headaches. If she needs days off, please assure I won’t let her go. For her daughter, who is autistic, give her a long and happy life, and she will one day have kids who beelieve in you. But all I want is a modest rental or owned house with three beds and two baths, a kitchen, a living room, a family room, maybe a small porch, a small yard, a flat roof or rectangular roof. I don’t want to be without running water or electricity because hell, this is the U.S. and if the girl who is mentally ill behaves, please if you could just give her back her electricity, and let her glimpse her family members, and let her pee in a toilet instead of a bucket, okay? Fix her house, her plumbing, and all that. She doesn’t understand how awful it is to ask for something as reasonable as a house and get this badly beaten up. I am not asking for a mansion, but if you insist I live in a nursing home, I won’t write you again.
Please, Mr. Claus, I know you only do kids and toys, or maybe you don’t, but if I don’t bear a child, that’s one less person to believe your story. You brought stuff to kids who had nothing at all, but my ex, who’s. probably as immature as a boy and in his twenties, and this other gal he was talking to on the phone with me, look, I have empathy for the girl. But if she misbehaves I’m not gonna say a word. I want her to have the plumbing and heating she needs, and that tornado? I didn’t even know it was over her house. Please, give her a few Colorado peaches.
But all I ask is for a modest living situation, and Santa i’ll be glad to give you everything: my food, my check, some place for the deer to graze, what the hell else should I give you in return/ For my ex, I want him to have a virtuous and very good person in his life who can marry him and call him husband, and I want him to stop being entitled to sexual things with her. He needs to quit flirting with other girls, but she will also be the one to say, “I’m not your slave.” Give my ex the ability to cook for himsef, his wife, and future kids. And when the time comes, Santa, go to his and his wife’s room and I would hope you give them Christmas presents for the whole family.
What breaks my heart is that I’m being questioned about my abilities. I have a special wish for my disabled community members. Do not give us sight. Give us books we can read, ones in Braille and such, and please, santa, keep reading the letters of blind children. Make the parents get them out of bed and get them writing and reading Braille again. Santa, would you fly your sled over to D.C. and tell the lawmakers and old Mr. Joe over there that there are transgender kids who need a ride in your sled to places where they will have life affirming care and stuff like that/ There are many kids who could use my house, and if I get the house or modest rental, please let the kids come and I’ll find foster homes that are life affirming for them. There’s a girl in Texas who has received death threats, and you being the magical one, you know her name. She was born male, but she really is female, pronouns she/her/hers. Please give her lots of dresses, and money so her parents can get the hell out of Texas. Cut the lines of those who are bothering her, and tell the lawmakers in Texas they’ll be getting coal and rocks and useless crap in their stockings, nothing at all, or perhaps a summons letter to report to jail for threatening this little girl. Tell the girl’s mother that I wish her all the best, but that I’d give the shirt off my back for her because she needs it more. Look, if I. had a modest multibed place with no creepy crawlies, I’d be glad to share it with her. My husband and I would give our whole career and lives helping kids like that one. And please send my friends at the Initiative more tools so some more women and children with disabilities can be helped on my behalf. Santa, I know it’s a bit early. But for Christmas, I want to change the world, I want a modest house, and don’t make me copy Amy Grant’s famous Christmas song. Because her list is my list.
I have to see who messaged me, but I’ll see you and all your entourage at Christmas, and I hope that my wishes and the wishes of others come true. I’m sorry to write this early, but you have six months to prep. That’s plenty of time.