old (2008), Uncategorized

just how right was i?

Turns out that having a bad day doesn’t mean my life is horrible — it means I had a bad day. And today I woke up and took steps to start fixing my life, including setting up an appointment with an attorney on Monday, drafting a letter to The Philosopher (which I won’t send until after speaking with the lawyer) announcing my intentions to cut him off financially (which means I’ll be paying him a fair amount rather than subsidizing his life), and cleaning out my car (well, part of it anyhow) since he’s bought his own (after driving mine for almost three years after I told him I wanted out of our relationship). And I think a fair amount of the resentment I feel toward him is about all of these things, but the fact of the matter is that I have been allowing this to go on for as long as it has, and can I really blame him for something in which I’ve been a willing participant? Well, I can, to some extent, but about 90% of it is on me, and so now I’m taking charge of that — to the extent that I am able to do so without risking my sobriety. Yay for me, I s’pose. We’ll see what the attorney has to say on Monday. Until then, I’m not even telling him I’m seeing her, because all that will do is up the drama quotient.

Other than that… the knee is coming along fine, which is both good and bad. It’s good in that I’m not in a lot of pain, but the REASON I’m not in a lot of pain has a lot to do with the fact that for about 97% of my waking hours, I’m sitting on my couch, either working (with my legs up on the coffee table — I know, not particularly ergonomically correct…) or watching television (reclining with my legs propped up on the entertainment center or bookshelf). It’s not as though in my day-to-day life I’m particularly ambulatory. So what happens: I leave the house thinking, Ah, my knee is FINE and I don’t need my crutches; I’ll use my cane. And I go to school and/or a meeting and/or Target (a store to which I believe I am officially addicted at this point) and by the time I get home I don’t quite know if I’ll be able to walk up the stairs. But then I rest sufficiently and I get amnesia ala alcoholism and leave the house the next day convinced that I still don’t need my crutches. And so, yeah, I’m glad I’m not in constant pain, but I don’t know if that’s because I’m healing quickly or because I’m an idiot. Or both.