Twelve fucking years ago, I wrote some nonsense here about giving up driving--nevermind that the way I reached the decision was muddled like leaves of mint in a julep. Made me think, though.

I was 24, then. Feels like a lifetime ago, and for good reason; it was at least one lifetime ago.

My life can be easily separated into three chunks of twelve years.

Thinking back on the last chunk, there's a certain swelling of pride. You're just 36, they'll say. You're not nearly old enough--you're still a pup! This sort of reflection shouldn't happen until you're staring retirement in the face and neglected to do anything useful with your preceding 60 years.


The person I was twelve years ago would be a stranger to me now, and with, I think, good reason. He wasn't a bad guy, not some villain. He wasn't possessing of any particularly egregious moral faults. He cared about different things, though, that's for sure.

Being perceived outwardly as he felt inwardly was very important to him. He envied people of intelligence and wit, and receiving praise from those sorts would stir his coffee across many cold nights. He wanted to be seen as one of them, a mind full grown and as limber a sponge as ever. He wanted to find and be associated with the Athens of America, as though membership would suddenly give him access to those raised echelons of class and erudition that have become increasingly silent in our modern lives; people in their metaphorical top hats, clinking crystal glasses of single malt.

He didn't much care for being alone. Being left alone with his thoughts caused the sort of ennui-fueled thought spirals escape from which was only possible through egregious application of liquor, lies, and lust, often in that order.

I mean, I'm married now, for crying out loud. Such a conclusion would've been unthinkable back then, and not only because of questionable legal status.

He cared a lot for money. He got into the software engineering business at the right time, had the right skill set, had the right charisma, to get basically any job he wanted; chased ever larger and larger paychecks to fill the various voids that working all the time was creating. Thrived on stress, thrived on deadlines, thrived on being the one brought in to conceptualize now to solve other peoples' problems, the field was perfect.

I don't wish to say it ate me up inside, as that sort of implies there was some sort of invader, some malicious presence. I wasn't eaten up, I was rotting in the sun.

Took a lot of hand-wringing, a lot of naval-gazing to get my life back in order. From the outside, everything already looked in order.

I mostly narrate audiobooks for the blind, these days. A life relatively free from stress, though also free from the luxuries afforded the engineer. I enjoy what I have, I cook a lot of meals at home for friends and family; the happiness of others rubs off on me, and it is my most profound hope that my own does the same. It's a lot easier to make people smile when their bellies are full.

I still don't drive, though, so there is that; and I still wear the same size jeans. And I'm glad E2 is still here.

It's strange to think that fifteen years ago I was waiting for my first baby to arrive. I remember being utterly miserable and wondering what I had gotten myself into. I was told I could have the baby early via emergency C-section, or I could go home, stay off my feet, and see what happened. I chose to give my daughter a chance to stay inside a bit longer, and it was the right decision to make. As an impatient person, waiting is hard for me. One of the lessons I'm learning is patience - to be more patient with myself, with others, with life as it unfolds. My mom is letting me borrow her vehicle on Tuesday. After making a list of what I want to accomplish while I have wheels I realized that I may need her car an extra day. 

To a certain extent life is something to react to, I couldn't have predicted getting into a car accident until seconds before I got hit. Rearranging the furniture allowed me to set up an office area for myself. I didn't realize how having my binders and papers scattered about was preventing me from greater productivity, but now that everything is in the same place it's amazing how much easier it is to manage the tasks I need done on a daily, weekly, and monthly basis. The system is still imperfect, but I'm further ahead than I was before which is encouraging and thrilling. It really is true that things of a similar nature belong together and life is easier when I group bills, books, etc...

Yesterday I had a breakthrough on the health front. I need to figure out how to manage my diseases instead of just pretending they don't exist. I'm going to make a rheumatology appointment, get in to see the eye doctor, purchase some drops for my eyes, and schedule eye breaks throughout the day where I can lie down and rest my eyes. I want to continue taking my daily walks, I haven't gone out today. I slept in and that threw my routine off. Routines are essential for me. I need to set them up and be fairly rigid about adhering to them. Staying up late threw me off, I spent the morning lazing in bed, retrospectively that was probably not the best idea although I don't really regret it. I want to get back to yoga, that made me feel a lot better physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Today Jill goes back to school. I was able to get a ride for her which was great. It's hard because I feel bad about where I'm at financially. It feels like I did all this work to help someone else build up their credit score and now I'm the person having trouble getting a loan from the bank. I have to move past that and understand that sometimes life just isn't fair. I got a really nice email from a friend that helped. I have wonderful friends who give me great advice, my family can be supportive, but I can't always count on them to give the kind of advice I get from my friends. Maybe I'm just not in a place to accept what they're saying, maybe we have too much history, maybe that's just the way it is and why we have family and friends in our lives. Regardless, I'm thankful and happy to have these people around. 

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.