onLeave a Comment on Every year, my husband and his family blamed me for “ruining” Christmas. This year, I finally stopped showing up—and stopped paying for the celebration they expected me to cover. By 6:30 p.m., my phone started ringing over and over. The same people who said I spoiled the holiday were suddenly desperate to know where I was and why nothing was going according to plan. 
I closed the laptop.
“Because I needed to see whether I was imagining the pattern.”
He leaned against the counter.
“You’re not the only person who contributes.”
“I know.”
“Ryan drives.”
“I know.”
“Marcy buys gifts.”
“I know.”
“Mom has paid for dinners.”
“Yes.”
His voice softened.
“Then don’t turn this into everyone using you.”
“I’m not.”
“That’s what it sounds like.”
