Febru-Eris: Immune to your consultations.

You all know I don’t do well with linear time, but sometimes it is the only way to get across a concept.

I am forty goddamned Earth years old.

I had a hard time dealing with that fact. I didn’t want the people at work to decorate my cubicle on my birthday. The last thing I wanted to see was black balloons and little cardboard signs telling me I was “Over the Hill.” Fuck that. They haven’t found the hill yet that I’m over. I have long been a proponent of the rock and roll lifestyle. It has worked well for me.

So… now there are a couple of issues.

I have asthma now, which is really inconvenient and, sometimes, scary. I have had coughing jags in the middle of the night that have lasted for two hours, my chest muscles pounding with the pain of the hacking, unable to stop the tears, Cootie unable to do anything but touch me, just to reassure me that I’m not alone. Those are terrifying times. I have meds now. Hopefully, those times are over.

The doctor didn’t bitch about me about my weight. I know I’m over the line. Like I said in my last blog, it has been an emotional weight-gain. I spent two years in a shitty relationship and I coped by eating and drinking. Then I got into a fantastic relationship and have been in an amazed party mode for the last year.

Let he who has ears, hear.

I am five feet, ten inches tall.

I need to lose as much as I am supposed to weigh in order to weigh what I am supposed to weigh.

Here’s the funny thing… I’ve done this before. In the past (again, using linear time), I have lost an entire person’s amount of weight.

I can do it again.

So… this month, I get to start a diet and quit smoking completely. Oh… and find another place to live (see previous entry).

I realize I do not have to do these things. I don’t have to do anything but die.

I just don’t want to die right now. Believe me, this is a refreshing change of pace over the past couple of decades. As Chuck Pahlaniuk says, “There are plenty of ways to kill yourself without dying dying.” And I have spent a long fucking time committing passive-aggressive suicide.

But this whole situation forces me to look at the larger situation.

What the fuck am I doing?

I think it is time for a lot of things to change as I begin this long slow slide into Summerland. So… many decisions have to be made.

I realize I have to move somewhere (and fuck-off fast, too). Where do I want to live? I have a family and we get to pick. We’re not powerless in this situation.

I realize I have habits to change and/or break. How am I going to do it? I have choices. I have options. What do I want to do?

I realize I have to work, but I do not know if I want to keep the job I have. “Oh, but the economy…” Yeah, I know. But people still get to pick what they do. Is it too much to ask for meaningful work? Some say, “No.” I say, “Fuck those people.”

It’s time for change. And it’s time for me to change the way I deal with change.

And it’s time for me to do the things I really want to do, and I’m reasonably sure I get to do those things my way.

And I think I’m gonna.