I started this on Facebook, but decided I'd just put it up here because it's more permanent. Today is the eighth anniversary of my dad's death. Some years it affects me consciously, others it takes me a while to figure out why I'm feeling crazy. That happens more around his birthday in August, which also happens to be the month I got sober. It's like a perfect storm of maniacal and depressive. I remember one year it was a couple days before his birthday and I was late for a 12-step meeting and as I'm coming off the subway I start pushing and elbowing my way through a crowd that was moving way too slow for my liking. As I'm charging up the steps to make sure I don't miss my transfer, I realize that I've just almost knocked over an old woman climbing up the stairs with her walker. Fortunately, I did not actually knock her down the steps. And also fortunately, I was able to see the craziness of charging over and through people while screaming (in my head), “Outta my way bitches. I gotta go get spiritual!”
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Procrastination is an interesting thing. Usually, when I have something I need to get done I spend the first two hours at my desk making sure every pen I own actually writes. No matter that I am sitting in front of my computer and I have no intention of writing anything longhand. It's just one of my many ridiculous habits to settle my mind down so I can actually think. Oddly enough, it works most of the time.