Adrift No More

Assuming everyone feels the same way at some point in their life certainly helps with coping, doesn't it?

For four long years I've been adrift, barely surviving the hits that kept on coming. Not a droopy ghoul by nature, I became concerned that I really was doomed to walk the Earth alone, in the giant, deep footsteps of the mighty Hulk. Divorce, illness, crisis after crisis; Existential Depression was the only raft to cling to in a churning sea of trauma.

Therapists praised my ability to SURVIVE but all I could say was, what's the point? It's incredibly hard to believe this too shall pass, when this too is sucking the marrow out of your bones. Impossible to accept things can only get better when them things are making you feel like a rubber stress doll whose eyes pop out ever further with increased pressure from the squeezing hand.

And, yet, like Moses in the desert suddenly espying a shiny something off in the hazy distance, you reach a point where you believe in the promised land. Sure, it's a challenge to survive. What's infinitely harder is sloughing off that angst and fear and allowing faith (not the Jerry Falwell variety, more the falling backward and trusting someone to catch you variety)to swoop in and blow your hair straight back. That's really motherfucking hard to do when you're comfortable with the idea that nothing will ever go right for you on account of everything being against you.

Anyway, things sure are getting better for me. However unsettling success may be, I am pleased and profoundly grateful.

Tomorrow night is our Restaurant Week date. Wheeee!