Dear Hearts,
I have like half an hour before the Christmas Church Dinner. G-Pa time that’s like 20 minutes.
I am going because I love my grandfather.
Does like mean I have to like it?
I wasted the last ten minutes obsessing. Looking for a smokeless ashtray online. The answer to all my problems.
See, here in Illinois we are in the Artic Vortex. Motherfucking-Moose-Cock-Cold Vortex. It’s like 12 during the day. Last night I took to smoking in the basement, because it’s just too fucking cold to go outside.
I spray. I have my smokeless ashtray and air filter. It doesn’t work. In My House, I always turned on a ceiling fan and opened a window. Worked great. Never smelled like smoke.
I know. I shouldn’t smoke. But, I’m not giving it up right now. Not going to happen. Why? Because I will start the New Year broke and financially dependent. And, right now I am a Scrooge.
Christmas is like catnip to those of us with Depression.
“Every kiss begins with Kay!”
Fuck you.
Christmas used to be my absolutely favorite holiday. I love giving to people and of course getting presents. That’s another sin that I will have to face up to Saint Peter at The Gates about: shelfishness. I like gifts. A lot. A really lot. I like stuff.
Im gonna hafta give up my house buthe thought of that the idea of that makes me want to go away.
This year I can’t afford gifts for anyone. And, now that I am drawing instead of cross stitching—well, I am not making gifts. At 39, giving Dad a drawing for Christmas is stupid.
“Oh, isn’t that lovely.”
Yeah, right and you never look at it again. Because it is a stupid gift.
Yet, I expect them to get me gifts—can I be more selfish??
Yes, I’m wallowing in Pity. It’s My Pity Party and I’ll complain if I want to. No one is forcing you to read this. But I bet I am not the only one who feels this way. And, in some way—getting all this shit out of my head helps a bit.
I want another cigarette. I don’t want to go to a Christmas Church Dinner. Ew.
I’ve been volunteering for Burning Bed. I hope and fear they hire me at some point.
I feel like inside I’ve given up. Yes, I have given up. I go through the motions—but inside—I FEEL like this is as good as it gets. I cannot imagine have a real job like I used too. I can feel an episode coming on. Good fucking job, Kate. Before the Christmas Church Dinner delve into the crevices in your soul. Yeah, great fucking idea.
I don’t wanna go home. I have to go East because I have to see my shrink. My shrink has been with me through my first nut-house committal. He supports me disability. You don’t give that up. I am going to see Mom, Dad, Gaia, and Johnny.
I feel numb so much of the time. I guess it’s better than miserable.
This is my first Christmas not in -Town. Ever.
I want this Christmas to be The One—where I celebrate the Birth of My Savior and mean it and am transformed. Yeah, not gonna happen.
I see and meet people my age—they are married, kids, Christmas trees, lives. I don’t have that.
I will never be married almost 50 years like my parents. I won’t.
I screwed up. Big Time.
G.V.—a teacher to whom I was close in high school and with whom I student taught used to say that you can’t totally screw up your life unless you kill somebody.
Well, he was wrong. You can screw it up in so many other profound ways.
WHY WHY WHY did I put up with T. and all his bullshit? The control. The abuse. WTF. On December 10, 2002 Asshole proposed to me. I was so truly happy and not a doubt in the world. My first year of marriage was so wonderful. I thought. I don’t know.
Two years ago today I OD’ed after a Hockey game. It would be so much easier if I had succeeded. I know Mom! Aunt Faerie! Gaia! You don’t want that. But that’s how I feel. No, I am not going to do anything Bad. Not Yet. NOT NOW. I promise you Mom, Martha, Gaia, Aunt Faerie, Dad—I won’t take the Nuclear Option in 2016. Okay. So even if I have thoughts—I am promising on Mother Mary and Jesus Christ—and Angel—not to do anything Nuclear in 2016. Okay?
I can’t see a future. I just can’t. Each day I just cling to what brings me some feeling of peace—reading the Post in bed, drawing, coloring, TV shows, Angel, SMOKING, coffee, ice cream, pie, muffins, pastries, SMOKING. Reading. SMOKING.
Shit. G-Pa time is up. Gotta go. I’ll be back. Two Xanax and off to the Christmas Dinner. I don’t think this episode will be too bad.
Just got back from the Christmas Church Dinner. Full blown episode. The dinner wasn’t awful. And, I got turtle cheesecake for dessert—I’m freezing it for tonight.
I was gonna be all profound and shit. But whatever.
It’s okay that I am not into Christmas. The lit tree reminds me of all I’ve lost, screwed, and given away.
What is my point in being here? To take care of G-Pa? Then what?
What I want for Christmas: a sense of Peace and Serenity.
Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless
In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Saint Peter; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.
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