Holiday Stress-o-rama

It’s the day before Easter and here I am.

Feverishly OCD kicking into high gear.

vacuuming, washing, sterilizing….going cuckoo  bong-go.

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When you grow up in a dysfunctional home like mine, holidays were the worst.

I can’t remember a fucking holiday where there wasn’t screaming, things getting tossed,

people getting smacked, people getting tossed, people yelling “fuck this, fuck that, fuck you!”

someone getting drunk or high.  someone getting mad that someone was getting drunk or high

my mother feverishly cleaning through it all and then the ensuing chaos.

and then after said chaos, we had to enter the community at large, attend

Catholic Mass as act as if everything was fine and dandy.

not too fucked up…… not too much stress, nope.

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even with all the knowledge in the world that I am not a child.

that it is NOT 1978.

and that my family of origin has long since disbanded

for the life of me I can not seem to un-wed

holidays being riddled with fear,  stress, and great trepidation…..

*****

I walk around just as my mother did cleaning like a banshee

snapping like turtle at all in my path

swearing like a sailor

and wishing there weren’t any holidays

wishing I could artfully hide under a rock

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my family will be here in less than 4 hours by the way

for the Easter egg hunt and then we are going out for dinner……

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what I need is a portable shrink….or a massive amount of something to numb me

I don’t recognize my reflection in the mirror….

no autographs please.

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where did I hear that……

oh yeah, I’m living it.

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the sweat pants and shirt I’m wearing could walk away on their own.

I think I’ve worn them for like three days in a row.

good thing I haven’t left the house.

they’ve become a staple uniform.

it’s like 1984 but without the government oppression.

more like severe clinical depression.

*****

I’ve subsisted off of Gatorade and saltines.

unless it comes out of a package ready-like……it doesn’t enter my body.

and no, at this point I simply suppress the thought of what that’s doing to me

from a nutritive standpoint.

I’ll probably end up with scurvy or rickets

and shave 10 years off my life or some shit.

*****

I’ll betcha somewhere, some other blog, someone is writing about puppydogs and sunshine.

leprechauns and farting rainbows out their ass because their so fucking happy.

God bless them.

Hurt

I hurt myself today- to see if I still feel- I focus on the pain- the only thing that’s real- the needle tears a hole- the old familiar sting- try to kill it all away- but I remember everything- what have I become? my sweetest friend- everyone I know goes away in the end- and you could have it all- my empire of dirt-
I will let you down I will make you hurt.

I wear this crown of thorns- upon my liar’s chair- full of broken thoughts- I cannot repair- beneath the stains of time- the feelings disappear- you are someone else- I am still right here-
what have I become? my sweetest friend- everyone I know goes away- in the end- and you could have it all- my empire of dirt
I will let you down- I will make you hurt
if I could start again- a million miles away- I would keep myself- I would find a way.

Johnny Cash- Hurt  

I hurt myself today.

again…..

not by the Man in Black’s needle.

a different means;

the pain is no different, no less destructive.

Everyone I care about seems to go away in the end.

I hurt myself, again……