This post should be a LifeTrax, but the damn site is down again.
So.
<i>ANNIVERSARIES</i>
Six years ago today, I got dumped. I got good and thoroughly dumped, for very good reasons. It was totally my fault. I'm not trying to excuse any of that. And while it didn't start the suckiness of my life then--indeed, my hating my life was what triggered a lot of the self-destructive behavior that led to the breakup--it ushered in a whole new level of shittiness in my life.
Within the next few months I not only got even more depressed, but acquired a fondness for some truly noxious chemicals, a propensity to migraine headaches, pretty much burned out of grad school, and got awfully close to suicidal. Putting my neck on the traintracks was--and is--my preferred method.
Six years later: I've been married for two years and a little. I own a house (or, well, the bank owns it). I have a real job, that I usually enjoy, that pays pretty well. I've been published a bunch, though not in anything academic. I have two big dogs who love me. My marriage, difficult as it is at times, is really very, very good. I typically have a couple months' cushion in the bank. I have enough disposable income that I can eat sushi and buy and shoot shotguns. The only chemical dependency I have left is alcoholism, and it's pretty mild; more a sweet tooth than a real necessity. In short, my life doesn't suck.
In short, all things considered, I'm pretty damn grateful. I still don't know how I pulled out of that bad patch, although starting to date Amy certainly had a lot to do with it. I didn't die. I didn't go to jail. I got <i>lucky</i> and I wish I knew why, but maybe if I did, I would wish I didn't.
Bruce
Really for Montorusa
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bruce
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