Last Year

Every year, I promise myself this will be the last year of the stressmonster that is my life. While doing some work on this site I noticed I wrote this about this time last year:

"I know a year from now it will be okay."

And, of course, it isn't. I'm wrestling precisely the same problems in precisely the same way. Everything relies on split-second timing and everything must break just right to keep things from breaking altogether. Christmas is in the balance. I am in the balance. And the weight of the world - or at least my family - is on me. Or so it seems on those days when the wife is fighting her own depressions and issues and abusive behavior from her family.

And even though some things are much better (and I know they truly are), some things are much worse...much closer to the edge of failure...and I know that there are safety nets out there but invoking them (again) is just wrong for someone my age.

So, I've set a number of things down the right path and I know that even though it is highly unlikely that everything will be magically okay in a year, it is likely they will be somewhat better. But that is precious little comfort as I worry if my vehicle will hold together long enough to get to somewhat better, if I can pull off one more Christmas from the gaping maw of the disaster it could be and if I can keep the pains in my chest from becoming anything more than stress.

Yesterday I was literally reduced to tears by it all. Today, I have a strategy - not a good one but one that has a chance of getting me through December. But it still slides along the razor's edge with no tolerance for error or failure. And I'm tired of the bleeding that brings.

I do think things are really bad all around right now. Everyone seems to be holding on by a thread. And I know that the problems I face are not unique to me or to this time. But I spend too much time alone and I deal with too much that is one tick away from a major crisis and I am worn out. And bleeding. And in pain.

And whining. I feel like all I do is whine. But it is the echo in my head.

Sometimes it is too much. And sometimes, I wish the pain in my chest was something else. And then I will it not to be. Never to be. Because I know Christmas is more than money and that the family needs me more than gifts. I just doubt they know that it is ever something I have to choose.