I am officially out of the will.

You know when you make a decision, are happy with the decision, only then to have it eat you apart a couple days later for making that decision?

That is me right now, realizing I have truly pissed off my parents.

Well, pissed off is maybe not the right words to use. Upset, yes. Disappointed, yes. Pissed off? Well? Yeah, maybe.

You see, my consort and I just got back from trips to Miami and New York, and had planned to drive to Oregon to spend the Christmas holiday with my family. It is something Chris and I have been doing since we first started dating three years ago (Miami then Oregon), and being with my family during the holidays is something I have done my entire life. In fact, I have never known a Christmas morning where I woke up anywhere but my parents house. Ever. 38 years of waking up 100 feet from mom and dad.

But this year, all I wanted was to be in Tahoe with Chris for a little 1:1 love fest.

So, you can imagine the conversation that took place when I called my parents two days before Christmas to let them know we were not coming.

To say they were shocked is putting it mildly.

Of course, to be fair....I didn't give them much warning. Mom had already gone grocery shopping, dad had just finished prepping the bedrooms for our arrival, and they had plans set for the next three days for all of us. But I just could not put myself in the car for the six+ hour drive North. It is weird, but I just wasn't emotionally wrapped around the trip this year. I can't explain why, but I know there are reasons for it. Will they ever surface? Who knows. The fact of the matter is I did not wish to go to Oregon this year and telling my parents this was breaking their heart.

The initial conversation with my dad was hard. As far as he was concerned - you always come home for the holidays. No matter what. And though I tried to point out this rule only seemed to apply to me (neither my baby sister or my brother were going to be there and weren't getting any grief) - it didn't matter to him. I was the oldest. I had always been there. I was to set the example. #%&#@*%^#*%

I know my parents will eventually get over it. It is not the end of the world. There will be other years. But why do they have to pile on the guilt? Why do I feel guilty?