My depression, like my dependence upon porn, comes and goes in waves.  For a time, I may be able to do well with myself.  But all of a sudden, on any given day, I am like an idiot that is standing in the middle of a highway.  The freight truck blares it’s horn, but my feet stay planted. 

It always seems to be the worst this time of year.  I guess there is a reason why more people commit suicide during the holiday season than any other month.

A few years ago, I read where the stress level of special needs parents is comparable to that of a soldier in combat.  My sister, being an Army wife, wouldn’t hear of it.  But, of course, this is the same person, whom along with her husband, has said that if they ever watched our autistic children, they would be drunk before we came back to get them.

Needless to say, it didn’t make us feel any better.  So, is it stress or depression I feel?  Or both?  It doesn’t sit well with special needs parents, knowing that they have been ostracized due to the fact that others cannot accept their children’s handicap.  But I can’t say anything, because I will be called an asshole. 

My wife and I have never been good at planning for Christmas.  However, our boys don’t really know the true meaning of Christmas.  They don’t know of the intent of which it was created.  They don’t unerstand Santa Claus and what he stands for.  Hell, they don’t even understand the concept of tearing shiny, decorative paper from a package.

All they know is that some lights go up and for about a month, we have a big tree in our living room.  And that is what my boys are attracted to: the lights.  It can be ninety degrees outside and my children will pull the lights out of the closet, plug them in and just stare at them.

So, I ask the question: what’s the fucking point?!

My depression is like standing on the shoreline of a beach.  The waves come in and lap at your ankles and knees.  And every once in a while, a wave comes along and clobbers you in the back of the head and knocks you to your knees.  Wave after wave pours over your head as you dig into the mushy sand.  And before you know it, the water gets deeper and deeper; land seems so far away.

I have the post-holiday blues before they are even over.  I wonder who will save me?

-Graveyard Night


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