I said I was going to try and write regularly. I haven’t done a great job holding up to that this week. I’ve been in a place. A friend calls it a hamster wheel. I call it Sisyphus. Sometimes at the bottom, sometimes near the top, but inevitably ending up back on the bottom again.

I don’t know where I am right now. Halfway up, nearing the top, or just on the bottom. My inclination is not on the bottom because I’ve made some choices recently that are terrifyingly optimistic. Like maybe there’s hope for me – not just for everyone else, but for me.

Typing all this, and re-reading it after, has me feeling so melodramatic. Part of the reason I’ve eased off the writing, part of the reason I’ve fallen out of touch with some folks I’ve always talked with, I don’t want to be a burden. I don’t want to be another concern for people who mean so much to me. Which, ironically, me not being in contact with people ends up being a larger warning sign for said loved ones.

I’m trying to be better about communication. In whatever methods I’m typically communicating with whomever I typically communicate with.

I still make no promises about, well, anything really, but I am going to be a sober alcoholic today, not a dry drunk. I am going to be undead today, maybe even thinking of being alive. I can unequivocally guarantee I’ll be grateful for any of you who are still with me in whatever capacity you’re with me.


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