~Next Saturday in my birthday. [please save the 'best wishes' for later..that's not the point of the statement]
Throughout most of my adult life at the beginning of August I would start to slide into a depression which by this time of the month would be pretty dark and deep. And with each passing year it got darker and deeper and started earlier and earlier.
The Central Issue was that I was trapped by both my own emotional damage and by my insane family system and each birthday was a benchmark of that captivity.
Being 'the scapegoat' I was not allowed to get better. When I was younger and an active dope fiend, that was an easy gig. But as I got sober and older and found my skills as an artist, then things got brutal. Overt sabotage was now required to keep me in my 'proper role'.
Two simple examples...
The first is when my brother showed me this Notary Public gig. It could start a cash flow for me and was mobile. I only needed a $170 to do the certification course, which included the seal and the whole nine yards.
Mumsie was very supportive until it came time to pony up the cash. Then she choked and at least had the decency to be embarrassed as this was something practical that had come from within the family system.
The second was when I sold my old SAAB. The tranny was shot and my buyer liked to rebuild them. I got $500 for it which was going to be my production budget on Night And The Stars. I had made it clear that was the only reason I would let go of that car.
But Mumsie demanded every fucking penny of it and did so with anger. That I dared make even a lil piss-ant movie when Evil Step Father could not get fucking arrested in Hollywood was utterly unacceptable.
This is not to 'cry victim'. I had painted myself into this corner and to get out I would have to confront some terrible fears, which it turned out were not as bad as I had expected, though they were no cakewalk either.
But every effort was being made to keep me locked into being the scapegoat. That's not an exaggeration. There were times when I was literally told that 'everything would be fine' if it were not for me.
When I would ask for specifics or bring up Mumsie's alcoholism or how the Evil Step Father had let his partners steal roughly forty million bucks from him over the years, I was screamed at for being 'ungrateful' and threatened with being thrown out.
By March of 2002 things had gotten so bad I had decided that unless something significant changed in my life I planned to kill myself a week or so after my fiftieth birthday. However a girl showed up and gave me reason to live. [yeah, that was easy]
But shit was still heinous come 2003 and finally The Universe manifested my Worst Fear and I did in fact become homeless...and free.
So, what is all this about?
The last few weeks I've been fucking twitchy as fuck. And I was getting worried. But then this afternoon, while I was trying to nap, it hit me like a smacker-o-blurdy! “It's your fucking birthday!!” I felt the twitchiness drain away.
I'd basically forgotten how this still carries pain and trauma. I'm a fuck load better these days. I have support and Purpose and even a long shot chance at doing what I've set out to do. But while some of the old wounds have healed, some are still raw and some may never heal. That's just the way it is....
PS By talking about this publicly I am committing the worst sin in that family system. I'm violating the Law of Looking Good. Well, ya know what, shit's tough all over.