I woke up sad. Really, really sad.

In fact, I've been so sad that I haven't left my bedroom. I've been lying here all day trying to figure out what exactly I'm so upset about it.

Because I know why I'm crying - and it has nothing to do with what is making me sad. Does that make any sense? I didn't think so. Let me give you an example of what I mean.

Let's say you're sick and your husband/wife/girlfriend/boyfriend/life partner hasn't called you all day to check on how you're doing. When they finally get home after a night spent out drinking - he/she/it brings you some medicine. You look at the label and become infuriated that they didn't get the right type of cough syrup. So you scream and holler and cry. But the cough syrup isn't the issue here - what you are really upset about is that you think someone you love doesn't care about you.

Emotions are funny that way. They're kinda like a Tootsie Pop - you gotta dig a little to get to the really good part.

You understand what I mean now? So,on the surface I've been crying all day over something really stupid but - down deep - there's the real reason why I'm sad.

Pain is a tricky little mother. It sucker punches you when you're not looking.

I've been absolutely terrified to leave this room. And I have absolutely no reason to feel that way. Jake has such wonderful parents who have always treated me with respect and kindness. Right now, everyone is at the kitchen table playing cards. They're laughing and joking. And each giggle, each joke is like a stake through my heart.

The worst feeling in the world, I think,is to feel alone in a crowd of people. To encase yourself in an invisible box that the world can't see - but is your own prison. This prison that distances you from everybody. I hope you've never felt that way. But if you have, I understand because I have had those feelings too.

Four years ago, my sweet, sweet uncle died. I always say that I didn't believe in angels until the day I heard my Uncle Constatine died - because, if anyone deserved to be an angel, he did. Unfortunately, sometimes some people are so gentle, the world becomes too harsh for them. This was my Uncle Constatine. One morning he woke up, went to work, and shot himself in the head.

I have to tell you a little bit about this man. If you've already heard this, please bear with me. It's worth repeating. He was my world - and what a wonderful world it was. After my parents died, he tried to become my guardian. But I so filled with rage that I wanted nothing to do with him. So for years, from a distance, he watched over me. When I was hurting, I screamed at him. When I was angry, I screamed at him. When I was scared, I screamed at him. Not once, did he ever scream back. He would repeat that he loved me -over and over again.

I always knew Constatine was there for me. When I was broke and lonely in Miami, I called him in the middle of the night for a plane ticket home. It was there the next morning. When my first boyfriend broke my heart, he sat all day on a bucket in his company's parking lot and listened to me cry. And when the IRS threatened to take everything I would ever have because my parents died owing them millions of dollars, my Uncle Constatine took on the entire debt so that I wouldn't have to spend my life barely keeping my head above water.

I strongly suspect that last selfless act contributed to his suicide. Which, although illogical as it sounds, burdens my soul with some blame for his death.

But I digress. My point is this man was the embodiment of unconditional love. Remember how I once wrote that love was subtle and gentle? It's in the little things that you do day to day that tell someone you love them. Every Sunday Constatine and I would have brunch. He would always arrive early so he could order my favorite food before I got there (since I had the same thing every Sunday) so I wouldn't have to wait for it when I arrived. He brought me roses on Valentine's day and made sure that he came over for Christmas. He knew how hard Christmas was for me - so he never pushed it. He never insisted that I spend it with him. Instead, he would give me my morning by myself then would always call to take me out to lunch. He would tell me every time he saw me "Do you know how beatiful you are,love? Well,you are very, very beautiful." The funny thing is ... I always felt beautiful whenever I was around him. I think partly because he seemed so proud of me. Wherever we would go he would tell everyone "This is my niece. Isn't she gorgeous?." He always boasted about my accomplishments or awards I had won or scholarships I had received. Even when I got into a car accident and destroyed his brand new car - he came to pick me up with a smile on his face. Of course, I was crying my eyes out - so afraid I had disappointed him. He said to me "You're okay. That's all I care about." Then took me home,made me tea, and told me about hundred different stories of all the cars he had wrecked so that I would feel better.

I remember the day he died vividly. Which is strange because I have a notoriously bad memory. I remember my sister telling me on the phone that he had killed himself that morning. I went over to my aunt's house (his sister) and she was hysterical. She was screaming and crying "Why? Why? Why?" Then I came in ...and all her frustration,all her anger focused on me. "You did this. You killed him." is basically what she told me.

From that day since, I have never felt beautiful.

Now, I know logically that I didn't kill my Uncle Constatine. And, don't worry, I don't sit huddled in a corner hating my self for causing his death. But something did change for me that day. I think whenever we lose someone we love -whether it be by death, divorce, or just departure - we change a little. The good part is that we get a little stronger. The bad part is that we create a little more self-doubt.

So I think the reason I've been here all day crying is because I don't think Jake's parents - or really anybody - could ever love me the way Uncle Constatine did. Could ever love me unconditionally again. Everyone told me after mom and dad died that,since I didn't have any family, the world was going to be a very cold place for me. I was never going to feel that kind of love again. Except for Constatine. He drew me close, took my hand, and whispered in my ear: "Fuck the world. I love you."

I am the person I am today because of him. And his love.

And, without him, I feel a little empty. Not all the time - only in certain situations. Like now. Surronded by Jake's family - the only thing I keep thinking is: "Don't screw up. Because,if you do, they'll hate you."

That little stupid voice in head that sounds an awful lot like my aunt, telling me that I'm not good enough to be loved on my own merit. That, without family, you need to constantly prove yourself to be worthy of love. It's exhausting.

Now, we all know this is bullshit, right? Because it is. A big, smelly pile of bullshit.

So,why as rational,intelligent beings - why do we let these irrational, inane voices sink their claws into us and take hold? Why can't I set myself free?

I think that's the million dollar question. If you know that answer, please tell me. I promise I'll start a cult and worship you as my personal god.

Anyway,why should the Raelians have all the cloning fun. I want to clone myself so I can honestly see what my butt looks like a pair of jeans.

Well, thanks for listening. I really do feel better. And Jake just brought me up a Coke and some peanut M&M's. Things can't be that bad when you're eating a peanut M&M.

I guess basically what I want to say is that, if you're feeling a little blue this holiday, take heart. You're not alone. Someone else is feeling a little blue too. But that's alright. We're strong, you and I. We got the stuff of heroes inside of us. We'll be okay. I promise.

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