Really Hard Month, Yet…

This month has been a bitch. In fact, January has been such a bitch that it invited all its sisters and brothers over to have a party, and all they are doing is judging the other months, calling them fat, and saying how much better the other parties are. I’ve asked them to go away, but all they do is say that they were invited by Ms. January and then inform me that there are no hot guys at this party. I’ve asked the police to take them away, but the unsurpassed Bitch Power of January frightens even them away.

My month involved 10 hour days, ridding myself of a druggie friend who should have been flushed long ago (loneliness can make you choose the worst people to keep in your life), inadvertently tapping into a very disturbing dynamic between two people who would put Harold and Maude to shame, calmly telling a coworker I was on to her shit and thereby almost dividing my work team, proved unexpected loyalties lay with me, tackled a huge writing project and finished it, given myself intimidating and terrifying goals for 2016, and started a long-delayed novel.

There are other things that have happened, like someone I removed from my life over three years ago tracking me down because he claims to have missed me. He has been in a relationship for 4 years and tried to get all sexy with me within the first hour of us talking again (I am now the not-so-proud owner of no less than 5 pictures of him. The only shocking thing is that none of them have been of his junk. At least not yet.) Within that hour he said that I should have married him, once again asserting that he was in love with me over 5 years before I stopped talking to him.

It was the second mention of marriage this month, and the second that made me recoil in horror. The other was the aforementioned druggie friend (and ex), who turned bitter and sullen and silent when I turned down his cheap-ass texted proposal and subsequent trying to explain that we would be great together. Then he pretended it was a joke. And decided to stop talking to me, totally “coincidentally”. I realized that he was hurt by my refusal, and I tried to be the good guy, but ultimately I realized that I’m just not that lonely to keep someone in my life who only passes the time. My time is better filled by myself. As I was trying to be nice, I found myself hoping that he would continue being a stubborn child, and when I saw my out, I took it. Let him think it was his doing. I don’t care at all. I am fucking free. It proves that you can care about someone and hope he gets better and even love him, but be disgusted by and sorry for the person he has become…and extricate yourself from the situation. Happily.

I’m also about 90% sure that I have found the source of my continued leg and general health issues, and it’s so shockingly simple that I am horrified that I haven’t thought of it until now. I get to start changing that tomorrow, and it’s only going to get better from here.

It has been a bitch of a month, let me tell you. And yet, through all this life upheaval, overworking, disagreement, cleaning karmic house, health realizations, and being forced to stare my own bad decisions in their handsome faces (with lunacy hiding behind them),  I have managed to work. I have amazing scenes popping into my mind for my writing, for this project, for the next book, for the book after that, and for other projects — including something new that astounds me, something I want to write desperately, but I’m not sure if it will ever make the light of day.

It has been hell, awful, changing, enlightening, and sobering. And through it all I have managed to write and be productive.

Which means no more excuses.

 

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~ by Darren Endymion on January 28, 2016.

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