Thursday, December 21, 2006

The Jeremy Crow Christmas Countdown 2006 #5


Well this is going to be one of THOSE kind of blogs which probably should have a form of disclaimer on it and will NOT be keeping within the Christmas spirit for those of you that actually did have Ward and June Cleaver as your parents. Self analysis was the original dominating factor in my earliest writings, and at times it sort of creeps up on me as I am sitting here tapping on this keyboard, after literally destroying my bedroom and my office in an intense blinding rage. Four cigarettes, a very large cup of black coffee and the mind numbing noise of my new 18 Visions CD, I am comfortable enough in my own skin to write about the Christmas tradition of depression. This is not an easy subject and it might float around a bit, and hopefully someone will relate. If not, fuck ya, I am writing this for me.

I’ve ranted on and on over the last two years about the depression and the panic attacks and I have scratched a bit at the surfaces of what it is that makes Christmas so bad in my mind. The fact that people have glowered over that bullshit notion that the typical American family all loves each other and has a wonderfully joyous time on the holidays. This shit old fallacy was destroyed in me at such a young age that it became a common drinking joke throughout all of my famous years when I was the town drunk, that any representation of myself “growing up” has been marred not only by my own inability to give my own children that bullshit illusion of normalcy as well. Aside from pounding my fists on the wall and screaming how unfair it all is at the top of my lungs, I have bandied around the belief that I am a realist which in and of itself doesn’t lead one to the clean and happy thoughts that should be centered around such a joyous holiday. The progression of my holiday nervous breakdown has always been the same but this year unfortunately took on the twist of starting about a week early, and has been kicking the shit out of me in ways I didn’t want to admit, until now of course.

It’s a simple formulation really. The heightened responsibility followed by the shorter days, and all of the extra “things” that I have to be involved with because of the kids starts breaking down my immune system, and then I become exhausted. My horrible taste in women has pretty much abandoned all of these parental obligations to me alone, along with all of the extra work that is placed upon me because the factory shuts down, and I am basically the “caretaker” and then the depression of never seeing the end of this set in. Impending doom is the fuel that leaves anyone with a large deal of depression defenseless to the surroundings, and in people like myself who happen to suffer from some seriously stunted emotional issues it often manifests itself into an extreme rage that will then form a good sized temper tantrum. I have been used to this happening in the years previous about two days before Christmas and thus in my weakened emotional state I am able to squeak through the day itself and then isolate for the amount of time necessary to simply start the new year, back in a semi latent state of normalcy. Well normal for me anyway.

Since the depression set in a week early I was deluged with the exhaustion earlier, the emotional insecurities, and the miserable thoughts were not far behind and it and I was incapable of getting my usual “head start” on the things that I needed to do, just to get ready for the usual depression and exhaustion. It was a bit worse than that as well today as I was sitting in my car {as I always do} eating my lunch and listening to the radio. I found myself really starting to crest on my own self conscious anger over the topic of “Movies” that were out in the movie theatre, and the happily married fucking asshole that does the show talking about the movies that he went to see with his wife the night before, and then the other happily married fucking asshole talking about the other movies that had come out because the specifically went to different movies to compare notes. My mind started turning with Invidia as I was starting to flow into a blind stupor over the simple fact that I miss going to see movies. This goes far beyond the fact that I can’t get a date to go along with me, as I had realized a long time ago that people like myself just shouldn’t “date” anyway {and yes I know that is sad before anyone points it out to me ok?} but more so to the fact that I can’t be an adult whatsoever in my own life. It’s been well over a year since the last time I went on a date, but it has been almost that long since I was able to go to a movie that didn’t have talking cars or animation in general. I was getting so jealous of people that not only can go see the new James Bond film {and hearing how awesome it is doesn’t fucking help} or the new Rocky film, or any of these movies that I would just love to go see even if I were to sit there by myself. It’s the myself part that does it, and I realize that it is very selfish to be sitting at a keyboard typing about how I am just so sick of being a total slave to the land of the little people, and that’s life. I accept it, and of course the guilt over being selfish makes it that vicious cycle. The good news is that I starve myself when I am depressed and I am getting a bit pouchy these days.

This of course doesn’t help as today was to be the worst of the worst in all of my over-burdened “to do” days and I have been on the verge of a panic attack anyway anticipating the bullshit. I already knew that I had to stop at the bank on the way home, cash my paycheck, clean out my life savings of 269 dollars {yes I am giving that fucking old shrew hush money before I kill her and hide her in the woods behind the house} stop on the way home at Wal-Mart and pick up some poinsettias {which all looked like shit} and then pick up Captain ADHD so he can see HIS shrink! After which I have to go pick up Lazius Boycrazius from the Elementary school where she is the High School Buddy of an underprivileged youth {probably so that she can recruit him into some evil army} and deal with the little princess “Imtoocutus” during the whole affair. Needless to say that it was all amplified by the fact that the fire department dropped off all of the kids donated Christmas Gifts {I found out during the day} so I had to run home and get those hidden before any of them get home. During this process I managed to fall down the stairs {the cement ones} and made my vocabulary all that much more precious, and it was during this little part of the endeavor that I ended up tearing the door off the hinges {well first you get really angry, then after you start turning green and all your clothes start ripping open the rage is all you need baby!} and pretty much destroyed my entire downstairs domicile. What a fucking genius!!

The long and the short of it all is that everyone made it home alive, and I haven’t been bothered very much because I reek of “Don’t fuck with daddy today” which is a once or twice a year luxury, but I am on the verge of tears as I have to listen to the shrew robbing the children of their youth. Her screaming at them to be quiet is far more annoying then them being kids, and my own emotional state is not conducive to me dealing with this with my usual calm rationality that I wear as a mask most of the year. The moster is out from under the bed, and it would be of no use to anyone for me to use that to my advantage no matter how much anyone around me deserves it. Here’s to that slow crawl to the New Year, and hopefully to the salvation of my sanity once again. It may be a lot worse than I have seen it so far but I’m a scrappy little fucker;8o)