The Long Winter

I'm back in more ways than one. I just returned home from a vacation that had me dodging tornados, evading flash floods, and running from bursting dams in between riding roller coasters. I'm also finally in a good mental place to start writing (and life) again. I've been in a funk ever since my divorce and finally bottomed out a few weeks ago. It's a maddening process for me. You can't reason your way out of it. You can't apply the latest in mathematical theory*. There are a million self-help books out there, but what good are words anyhow ... err.

You need time plus experience. Of course you could bottle up your torment and release it spontaneously on the first person who reaches out to you in a thoughtful way. That's always a popular one. But I'm not one to do something just because all the cool kids are doing it with the exception of jumping off of a bridge. I'd certainly give that a try with a group of cooler peers.

So one weekend I melted down, desperately clinging to an idea of a happy future with someone who was desperately clinging to an idea of a happy future without me (not my ex for those wondering). At that point I realized that something had to change, and I am thankful that there was minimal collateral damage when the Tom-bomb went off. Very thankful. I can credit those close to me for helping me when I was in need (you know who you are).

Now I feel like I can resume writing. I've got to brush up on my nouns and verbs, and see what the story fairy has for me.


* Stephen Hawking was no help at all.