Fond Easter Memories

I was brought up way too Catholic. I was raised to be a virgin until marriage. (HA!)  I was told it was wrong to masturbate.  (HA HA!!)  I was kept home on Good Friday so that I could grieve Jesus’ crucifixion.  My brothers and sisters and I were NOT allowed to play, or smile, or have fun, because TODAY was the day that Our Lord was crucified!!  We resented being expected to cry about this.  Frankly, we didn’t give a shit.  We were just living for Easter Sunday, and biting the head off of those hollow chocolate Easter bunnies.  We would sneak out of our rooms and gorge on the loose jelly beans in our Easter baskets.  What the fuck, we earned it.  We sat through the Stations of the Cross.  We listened to a blow-by-blow of Jesus’ beating, and the walk to Calgary.  Still ahead of us was Easter Mass, where the church was more crowded than any other day of the year.  We had to get there early.  We had to wear our fanciest outfits, including gloves and hats.  We had to sit still for HOURS.  Was Easter even worth it?  We wondered as we worked through the robin’s eggs and malted milk balls.  Near-puking by bedtime, Easter candy eaten, our brains buzzing with sugar and caffeine, we thought “I can’t wait until NEXT Easter!”

Filed under: Bipolar, Psychology Shmyshmology Tagged: Bipolar, Fond Easter Memories, Hope, Humor, Mental Illness, Psychology, Reader

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