Happy Birthday to me. I am 32 today.
I've spent the last month running around crazy, barely sleeping and losing track of my thoughts. I had my mother-in-law's birthday party, then a run back to New York for a funeral, and then the meet here. I can feel the strain starting to change my ability to remember things or focus on tasks. I've tried to keep a better eye on myself the last few days, but it is always easier as a concept than as a procedure. This little issue is emblematic of the last year. I've been burning shit at both ends for way too fucking long.
Quite frankly, this last year sucked and I blame myself for that. I was a fucking mess. I invited drama on myself and drove myself insane trying to answer too many questions at once. I fed my dislodgement from reality with a fervor that is usually found at tent revivals and midnight book releases. I'm surprised that I didn't do something so stupid or insane that there was no chance of recovery.
I think I had a nervous breakdown at the end of last August. I took a week upstate to see if I could sort my head, but it only caused more confusion and heartache. Last fall was a lot of broken thoughts while I reached a semblance of normalcy in the middle of the storm. I spent a lot of time on the deck out back, chain smoking in the middle of the night and trying to out think myself. I hid in the office, trying to find definition in work and not thinking so much. I wrote a bunch of daylogs about living in Michigan, hoping to take away something from those stories that might help me sort out my head. I emerged a bit in the spring, but I don't feel like I'm entirely back to whatever normal was this time last year.
I quit smoking again, this time out of a sense of responsibility and a vague understanding of a greater good that I should be inspired to reach for. Although this motivation was suboptimal when it came to internally powering through cravings, it has so far proved to prevent me from completely breaking and running back to my addiction. Some days are better than others, and I've learned to accept that there are compromises to be made along the way. I could be doing better, but I could also be doing considerably worse. It will be six months since quitting in another few days.
And here I am now, trying to get through all of that still. I don't know how I'll shake out yet, but at least I have started to think about what the next steps are, and where it is that I want to be. I've decided to reevaluate some of the things in my life that I had been taking for granted. I need to weed out some of the bullshit that makes me crazy, and search out anchors that will keep me from drifting off again. I need to be less cynical and nihilistic, and find things that interest me and make me happy. It is at a conceptual stage right now, and maybe I don't know what I'm talking about here.
But I have to start somewhere.