Notes from the siege.
Tonight, I had to stay home from a holiday party I'd been planning on attending. I'd been looking forward to it for months, but, lo and behold, by the time we'd have launched, I was not in the right headspace for human company.
I am not crazy.
I am not crazy.
I am under siege, from within and without, but I am not crazy.
I am sad, sadder than ever about my life and so many of its denizens, but I keep walking. My totem animal is probably some kind of zombie. I'd say lich, for you tabletop veterans, but frankly, among my many concerns is a diminishing sense of intellect.
So zombie it is.
I won't break my own self-imposed rule about discussing my divorce, or my relationships in general, but it can be said with great certainty that things could definitely be going better. (Not in all aspects; I love my roommates, and would be quite at sea without them, a lot of the time.)
I miss my dad, even though it's been nineteen years today. The last days of his life were the among the last days I thought things could ever be all right. I have been wrong, every time I thought that, by the way. Things will never be safe, never be assured. Home is gone, as a concept. I struggle to avoid thinking that way, but it's so.
I miss my boys, even though I saw them at Thanksgiving. I am a long way away, compared to spending damned near every day of their lives with them. I know I wasn't the best or worst father; I just made a lot of very common mistakes, as well as managing some pretty standard accomplishments. They're good kids. They deserve a lot better than I've offered or shown, but they've made do like champs.
I don't have much money now, and I'll soon have even less. That makes me nervous, always has since I lost the man who'd pay my way out of Hell if they'd only give him a detailed bill. I love my mom, and she's been as supportive as possible, given herself and the loss of the love of her life, but my dad set the bar for almost-unconditional support.
I was spoiled, both by their indulgence and my own ignorance. I don't have enough of either, these days. I'm quite real, quite rubbed raw by human standards, and while I can keep going, I can't say for how long.
I am very sorry if I offend anyone, as a consequence of being reduced to a walking insecurity, but at least you can rest assured that I will NOT be eating your brain.
Also, I am not crazy. My problem may be that I am finally TOO in touch with reality, and I haven't quite the skills to cope.
I hate winter. I hate this winter even more, though.
I am not crazy.
I am not crazy.
I am under siege, from within and without, but I am not crazy.
I am sad, sadder than ever about my life and so many of its denizens, but I keep walking. My totem animal is probably some kind of zombie. I'd say lich, for you tabletop veterans, but frankly, among my many concerns is a diminishing sense of intellect.
So zombie it is.
I won't break my own self-imposed rule about discussing my divorce, or my relationships in general, but it can be said with great certainty that things could definitely be going better. (Not in all aspects; I love my roommates, and would be quite at sea without them, a lot of the time.)
I miss my dad, even though it's been nineteen years today. The last days of his life were the among the last days I thought things could ever be all right. I have been wrong, every time I thought that, by the way. Things will never be safe, never be assured. Home is gone, as a concept. I struggle to avoid thinking that way, but it's so.
I miss my boys, even though I saw them at Thanksgiving. I am a long way away, compared to spending damned near every day of their lives with them. I know I wasn't the best or worst father; I just made a lot of very common mistakes, as well as managing some pretty standard accomplishments. They're good kids. They deserve a lot better than I've offered or shown, but they've made do like champs.
I don't have much money now, and I'll soon have even less. That makes me nervous, always has since I lost the man who'd pay my way out of Hell if they'd only give him a detailed bill. I love my mom, and she's been as supportive as possible, given herself and the loss of the love of her life, but my dad set the bar for almost-unconditional support.
I was spoiled, both by their indulgence and my own ignorance. I don't have enough of either, these days. I'm quite real, quite rubbed raw by human standards, and while I can keep going, I can't say for how long.
I am very sorry if I offend anyone, as a consequence of being reduced to a walking insecurity, but at least you can rest assured that I will NOT be eating your brain.
Also, I am not crazy. My problem may be that I am finally TOO in touch with reality, and I haven't quite the skills to cope.
I hate winter. I hate this winter even more, though.