Post Birthday Stress Disorder. Not my birthday, my Mother’s. Yesterday was my mother’s birthday. She would have been 101. I dunno. Of my siblings, I’m the one who lets my mother inhabit my head rent-free.l

The demons of her depression attack me periodically. I don’t know why. I keep thinking of the Gospel story wherein Our Lord casts the demons inhabiting the Gerasene Demoniac into a herd of swine. The swine proceed to run off a cliff. Miraculous recovery.

So I was pretty desperate today until I took a nap beside J. The TV tuned to some chick show didn’t even bother me. I woke up all better.

Occasionally this happens. The horrors of a relatively safe and happy childhood return. If I knew why, it might not happen ad much.

I put on my favorite Popeye cartoons. I acknowledged to myself that I cleaned the kitchen. (Doing estimable things restores self-esteem). I thanked J for being my wife and let her know how napping beside her helped.