The last six months have been incredibly up and down for me.
There have been incredibly good things (a reconciliation with my sister and my nephews becoming a part of my life) and there have been some straight up suck ass things (losing my job, losing a relationship I was sure would be the last one I ever started, because I never figured it would end) and there have been some totally weird ass things (there was an encounter with a semi famous cock that I promised NOT to blog about)
I have had two root canals, five bladder infections and found a lump in my breast.
I have owned two cars in the last six months.
I have been ripped off by the person I was sleeping with to the tune of almost 1500 dollars. It will take me three months to dig myself out of that hole.
I have had trusts broken, and have been offered friendship from people I never would have expected it from.
I have had people I had never met come half way around the world to help me nurse my broken heart and help to heal my wounds simply through friendship.
I have spoken (and written) openly about things that I never thought I would share with anyone, other than say, my shrink.
I have lost close to 30 pounds, and am about as fit as I have been since my 20's.
In the last six months I have cried harder than I have ever cried in my life, and I have laughed until I actually peed my pants a little bit.
I have felt like I was losing my mind, and I have questioned my own sanity more than once.
I have remembered (at least I hope I have) to tell the people that I love that I love them, and I have tried my best not to cause hurt to the hearts of others.
I have tried to be grateful at least once a day, and although some people may think I failed, I have tried to be gracious in the face of the actions of others that caused me pain.
Despite my best efforts to piss away almost four years without drugs, I have managed to fend off the demons that laid me so low just a few short years ago.
I started taking stock of shit a month or so ago, because I am fast approaching my 40th birthday, and although it is no longer the milestone it was for the generation before mine, it still feels symbolic.
To be honest, I don't know what to make of most of it.
Had you asked me at 20 if this is where I'd be at 40, I would have said "Fuck, no" (not that I had any idea where I would be....but still...it sure as shit wasn't here)
And then yesterday someone at work asked me if I am happy.
I started with my stock answer which is , "Well, I'm not terribly unhappy..."
And I stopped.
I told the person the truth.
I said, "Some days I am happy. Other days, I am the epitome of fucking misery, and it is best to steer clear of me on those days"
He asked how he should be able to tell the difference.
And when I thought about it, I guess the truth is, there feels like there is so little distance between happiness and misery for me that I could never even warn someone before the tide were about to turn.
I'm not even sure when it's going to happen myself.
Yet despite that teeter tottery feeling, I am more mentally stable than I have been since, like, ever.
My medication still works for me.
I get out of bed every day, even when I don't have to.
I try go to the gym almost every day. I try to read more and watch less mindless TV.
I try to remember how even though the last six months have had more bad then good in them, I have seen and lived worse.
Much, much worse.
And I suppose as I slide down towards forty, that's about the best I can hope for.