Well, life has certainly been interesting lately. I'm very grateful to still be alive, but some days it's really tough to keep going.
I think I must have done something to my ankle, because I'm slowly losing the ability to walk without nearly falling over from the pain. After everything I've already been through with that ankle, it's frightening to think I might be going backward instead of forward.
I'm also carrying around a tremendous amount of guilt. Guilt over a million things I've done, decisions I've made, and people I've hurt. But mostly, guilt over walking away from Becky. That's a weight I don't seem to know how to put down.
And then there's sobriety.
For a while, I thought I pretty much had it figured out. But lately, it's become a struggle again. As much as I've come to hate alcohol and what it's done to my life, I still find myself thinking about it.
But I'm still sober. And right now, that counts for something.
In a couple of days, I've got an appointment with a skin doctor at 8:30 in the morning, just up the road from me. I've booked an Uber for 7:00, and I'm planning to stop at a little Southern restaurant for breakfast first.
I haven't eaten out in months, and I'm actually looking forward to sitting down somewhere and enjoying a good breakfast.
Afterward, I'll walk to the doctor's office. It's about four-tenths of a mile. I'll wear my boot, and I hope like hell my ankle lets me make it.
We'll see.
I suppose things could be much worse. I could be living in some geriatric old folks' home, or homeless and sleeping beside a dumpster somewhere.
Instead, I've got this little bedroom. There's a kitchen and a bathroom nearby. I've got a flat-screen TV, a laptop, a cell phone, a bed, and my teddy bear.
As I write this, I'm lying on my bed on the floor, trying to keep the weight off my ankle. My teddy bear is doing his part, holding up the laptop so I can type.
He's pretty good company, actually.
And that brings me to another part of my life that's become painfully obvious.
I don't talk to other human beings very often anymore. Usually, the only time I have a conversation with someone is when I go to an appointment.
Family doesn't call. I suspect I've damaged what little family connection I had left. And my roommate and I have reached the point where we barely speak. Between being ignored and getting angry, we've pretty much run out of things to say.
It's a lonely way to live.
Sometimes I look around this little room and wonder how, after 80 years of living, working, loving, making mistakes, building things, losing things, and surviving things I never imagined I'd have to survive, I ended up here.
It's really quite sad.
But I accept where I am, even if I don't particularly like it. There's a part of me that believes I deserve some of this, whether that's fair or not.
And yet, I'm grateful.
Grateful for this little room. Grateful for a roof over my head. Grateful for my computer, my projects, and the things I can still create. Grateful for my teddy bear, who's been quietly keeping me company through it all.
And grateful that, somehow, I'm still here.
I don't know what comes next. Maybe my ankle will get better. Maybe I'll find a way to repair some of the relationships I've damaged. Maybe life still has a few pleasant surprises waiting for me.
For now, I'll keep trying.
After all, I've still got a Southern breakfast to look forward to.
And things could be a whole lot worse.
Thursday update: I decided walking from breakfast to the doctor appointment was not possible. Skipping the meal...
You can read this shared post. Only the owner can sign in to comment.