I fucking hate this holiday

I discovered moments ago that I can't listen to orchestral music on Fuckmas. My chest got tight and my shoulders tensed because in my mind I had walked out of my room to hear it blasting and my mom would be cooking or cleaning or something that made her pissed off. Well, cooking not so much, but seeing her clean was the red alert. Any minute now, she'll pop and...my mind goes blank when I try to think of what came after that. Even now, I usually have to leave the room when people start to clean, or I get all tense and help. But when I'm helping, I'm trying to do enough to avoid getting yelled at, even if the person in question isn't the type.
My mind is moving too fast for me to keep up with. There's too much to talk about and I don't know where to even start. I feel extremely unloved. Someone could be right in front of me, hugging me and saying differently, but at this moment it would have no effect. I would probably feel like they were doing it out of obligation or because they wanted me to stop being upset (though not for my sake). Because in the end, no one really loves me. They all just want me around so they have someone to kick and critisize. Honestly, everything I type just sounds whiny to me, like I'm making a tremendous deal out of absolutely nothing. I remember going down to California with my dad and older sister to see his side of the family this time of year. Most of them are stern assholes who didn't really know how to act around children, even though they themselves were parents. I got yelled at a lot because I was loud and jumpy and talked a lot. I got yelled at for being happy, that's what it comes down to. Who I was and how I expressed myself were always viewed as one big behavoral problem. They gave me crap for my lousy grades and my weight and how much energy I always seemed to have. I envied my sister. She was quiet and skinny and an A student. I saw her get lavished with praise and I tried so damn hard to be like her. I would lay in bed and think, "Tomorrow, I'm not going to eat anything and I'm not going to say anything." Sometimes it was me trying to get their attention, but mostly it was because I wanted those traits in my personality. I wanted to be someone my family could love. Of course, it never worked; breakfast would come around and I would eat three bowls of cereal and talk extensively about what this one kid at school said. At the end of the day, I would beat myself up until I fell asleep for not being able to stick to my plan.
Presents were always a big deal. The only way my parents were ever able to show love was through material things. So I at once loved and detested this holiday, loved because...well, they gave me presents. I was so thirsty for love that when I got less presents than my sister or cousins, I would run off and cry and cry and cry because I felt so extremely unloved. I felt like I was being told that my skinny sister was so much better than I was and I was so low down on the ladder that I didn't deserve even the tiny amount of love I recieved. There was always so much pressure to be good and act like I wasn't in pain. I couldn't get angry, I couldn't talk about sad things. They always cut me off and changed the subject or got mad at me.
My mom had this strange obsession with Fuckmas and acting like a real family. Everything had to be just so or she would fly into a rage and on more than one occasion, tell me that I ruined Christmas. But nothing was ever just so and she always flew into a rage. If I didn't like a present she got me, she would get mad at me. If I didn't get her something she said she had wanted, she would half-heartedly act as if she liked whatever I had gotten her and sulk about what I had missed. She was always just so damn mad. There was so much PRESSURE, from all sides of me. And I was never able to meet expectations. I always somehow ended up expressing my pain and it always got me into trouble. I tried to be good and be what they wanted but I just couldn't do it. No one loves me and it's all my fault.
Everyone asks me if I'm seeing my family today or tomorrow and I just want to put their head through a window, even though they don't know the circumstances. People say "Merry Christmas" and I just want to punch their fucking teeth down their throat. They have No Idea.
My dad raped me and my sister when I was three and she was five. I suspect it was around this time of year. I vaguley remember wearing a festive dress before he took it off of me.
There's been a safety breach in Quadrant One. I no longer feel safe writing about this and need to stop.