Demon Music

Family holidays being my least favorite days of the year, I've created my own personal tradition - stay in bed, eat only things that are bad for me, and do nothing that requires showering or clean clothes - I find it gets me through the day nicely.  And so another Thanksgiving Day passes.

Families.  All dysfunctional in their own way - some simply quirky, others shadowy and possibly sinister, and some outright dangerous - odd little collections of still odder people created by chance and genetics and held together by necessity, habit, common needs.  Add drugs to the mix and they become held together by secrets and sickness and scores to settle.  Addiction is a contagious disease and no one in an affected family is spared.  Over time they learn coping skills - enabling, withdrawing, absence - and of course, the Big Kahuna, denial.  The lucky ones take flight and escape, albeit carrying the infection and damaged if unaware.  They won't understand why they don't trust people, why relationships are rocky to the point of failure, why they prefer a solitary life, why they cringe at a raised voice or expect a raised hand.  They won't comprehend their own free-floating anger or lack of confidence and they won't recognize truth when it's told to them.  Pleasing others will be more essential than pleasing themselves even though they know they have no real chance of measuring up.  They'll be controllers, desperate to maintain order on their own terms, obsessively focused on routine and familiar territory.  In their hearts they know that change is just a code word for chaos.

All things considered, it's a hard way to live, although often preferable to confronting the demons face to face and risk discovering that we've had a hand in their maturity and staying power.

It's good to remember that no one sets out to become an alcoholic or a junkie.  No one sets out to marry one either.

 We may not recognize it, but sickness calls to sickness and we're mostly always at home.

So I'm wary about family celebrations, even in the most seemingly healthy and happy homes.  Demons live in the undercurrents, in the things that aren't always seen and aren't always spoken, the things that we pretend aren't there.  They play their sweetest music when you're not listening.

Normal, as folksinger and songwriter Bernice Lewis penned, is just a setting on the washing machine.