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The Bang Bang Theories

The Bang Bang Blues

I’ve got a steep case of the post-holiday blues, Reader.  I don’t know if they’re really holiday blues or just blue-blues, but they’ve settled in and seem to want to stay and visit for a while. So I’m allowing them in, and just figure I”ll settle in on the couch next to ’em and we can chat and figure out why they’re here and how long they plan on staying. 

I think I was too much on “go” for the past few days, and I’m a little worn down.  That seems to be when they like to come and visit. Now don’t go getting all concerned, Reader, this isn’t going to become a place where we chat about our various depressions or anything like that. I rarely get down, but today it was a full-out bawl. The kind of bawl where I have to repeat words because my therapist couldn’t understand a word I was sobbing into her ear on the phone. 

She’s not really my therapist. She’s my friendie, but she’s had the horror privilege of undressing my drunk self on vacation, so she’s qualified. And needed her own therapist after that debacle, but this isn’t about her, it’s about ME, and right now Bang Bang has the blues so let’s stay focused. Sheesh. 

Christmas hasn’t been very magical since my mom died, which was 20 years ago yesterday. She basically died in my arms, of heart failure, in the early morning hours, and so yeah, tough times. The holidays sort of fell apart without her there to ground us all in the tidings of good cheer. She was the glue. 

Maybe if I had had kids it would have been different. But I didn’t need to carry on holiday traditions for anyone, and so while I’d often do some things like baking and some decorating, etc, it was never quite the same. And then some years I’d get busy and tired from work, and would do even less. 

This year started our holiday strong. I’m in a great place with work, which leaves me energy to have a life after the day there is done.   I addressed cards.  I did a lot of baking. I made chocolates, for crying out loud.   I toyed with the idea of putting up a live Christmas tree! But that had a lot of complications to that plan, including how the hell I was going to strap one onto the roof of my convertible, and the possibility of spider’s nests living in the branches, so that holiday joy was skipped.  

However, I wasn’t treeless by a long shot, because my therapist beau made me a pallet tree! Reader. It was like he handed me the Christmas Star with this gift.  It’s the first Pinterest project at Chez Bang Bang that  turned out worth a fuck. See? Nifty!!

So Christmas was happening. And the actual holiday days were really nice. And then somewhere along the line, maybe around 4 a.m. last night, when I was dragged-out-tired because I was preparing to host a baby shower for today, I just got tired and looked at other people’s lives on social media too much and I sunk right into woe-is-me. 

Because everyone, absolutely everyone, is more accomplished, successful, beautiful, kind, wealthy, organized, smart, lucky, loved, normal, sane, skinny, longer-haired, tan, less man-handed, whiter-teethed blah blah blah, than I am. 

Obviously, because I’m an unlovable stupid loozer who’s accomplished zilch in my life, 

That’s the track in my brain. I’m trying hard to jump the track. Because I don’t normally get on that track, and I don’t like that train at all. I know all the “tricks” to josh yourself out of it, Reader. “Practice Gratitude.” “Do a nice thing.” “Count your blessings.” 

I’ve tried all that and none of it wanted to matter.  

So I just let it in and sit awhile with it and had a hard cry and my lip pouted and my eyes keep puddling up and now I’m telling you this side of Trixie that isn’t the funnyish side, and that’s okay, too, because I’d hate for you to think I have a Norman Rockwell life over here and it’s all tequila and burritos every day. 

Because it couldn’t be further from the truth, unless Norman Rockwell had 8 cats who on occasion peed in inappropriate places. Then it would be a lot like Norman Rockwell. 
So yeah. I’m working on it. It’ll pass. Probably by tomorrow, because I already feel it starting to lift a little. But some days just beg for a good hard bawl. So let it rain.  
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