St. Patrick’s Day.

I hate St. Patrick’s Day. I have openly discussed, which can be found in my blog archives, my laments and angry rants about that particular “holiday” for lack of a better term and my less-than-thrilled feelings about it – how two of the worst days of my life both occurred on St. Patrick’s Day; how I don’t believe that “everyone’s Irish” on that particular day in March, which also happens to be my least favourite month of the year. How even the attempt to dress in green instigates in me this intense resistance. I don’t “celebrate” this day. I don’t even so much as acknowledge its existence. If I go out, it’s to get drunk but last year, and the year before, and in 2009, I refused to wear green. I wouldn’t, and I won’t. I told myself I never would.

I’m fully aware that this accomplishes nothing. My refusal to wear green on St. Patrick’s Day satisfies a particular defiant attitude and visually manifests my vendetta against the “holiday” but I am fully aware it won’t make St. Patrick’s Day go away, nor will it make okay my miserable experiences with March 17, both in 2006 and 2008. So why do I do it? Why? I was thinking about this upcoming March the other day and I asked myself this question. The answer to it is, I hold grudges. And if asked why I do that, the answer is because I have a hard time forgiving myself even when I know I can, and should. Doing so however, is easier said than done. Because no matter where you are in life, badness, even though its pain is alleviated, never truly leaves – it is merely recalled in snippets, or attributed to a particular time and place in one’s life. Getting over it takes time, but it’s never fully healed, is it? It becomes woven into the tapestry of your own life and experiences.

This year though, while I plan to focus on the experiences that have brought me to this point, I also plan to achieve little victories. Thus, this year, I pledge to wear green on St. Patrick’s Day. In the past couple of years, I’ve discovered that vendettas can be lifted; good experiences and allowing yourself into those good experiences, embracing  them fully and without fear, resignation or animosity, can only lead to good things. In the past, I have worn all black on March 17 as a reminder of why I hate the day, and that nobody can fucking tell me I’m Irish, and I would have smacked up the shit out of anyone who even tried to pinch me for not embracing my own fake Irish roots. Not this year,though. NO. This year, I WILL wear green. It will nearly kill me at first. I will look in the mirror that morning and cringe at myself for agreeing with myself to give into the one day I hate more than any other day of any other year. However, I’ll do it. I’ll do it, and I will be better off for having taken on this new, renewed attitude towards things like a celebratory green-incorporated outfit St. Patrick’s Day.


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