Love Letters to Anne

It went on like this for awhile. And then, one day, it seemed like I was getting stable again. Establishing a good routine and a good family life. Living with my girlfriend in a good neighborhood it seemed. Things normalized a bit. I had a good job where I was learning and challenged I was happy to a degree. But there was still a nagging feeling that was driving a nail into the back of my brain.

So, I started my quest for family again. Visiting the adoption boards, entering my information into databases that were created for adoptees and their blood relatives to be able to find each other. I was in love but I noticed that I had no self-love.

I began a journey back to myself. Giving myself Grace for the things I felt were deficient in my character. Trying to forgive myself for not reaching my original goals for success. Trying to keep in mind all the troubles I had to overcome. I still wasn’t satisfied.

I was distracted by all the filth and glitter society uses to hypnotize. Like I’ve said before, I was adrift, but I started to swim. Moving in some positive traction. Any progress is progress, no matter how small.

There were setbacks here as well, but I endured and used my resources carefully. I have been without before. So, this time, I would use these resources to move me higher.

I went to school with money I got in a settlement over an injury from a car accident. I got certified in some technical networking disciplines. I broke into the business of making and repairing computers. I really enjoyed this. And for awhile, the comforts that came from hard work, a good job, a home, and good friends during good times. I was happy, but still missing myself at the core.

I was drinking a lot as well. I never gave Mary up she just visited frequently. But looking back I was still dying inside.

I lost myself in domestic life. House stuff and chores… it could have been bliss, but my wife at the time was going through her own awakening about herself and at the end of it, we didn’t last. Love lost. Again.

And then the struggle of untangling our knots.

I lost my mentor during this time as well, I was spiraling headlong into doom. I just didn’t know it. Losing him was a blow I was not ready for. I drank the days away and then, months later his daughter, my sister for all intentions, died of breast cancer.

I’m not going to lie, this crushed me. Why her? Why not me? I went into the oblivion willingly. All the wind had left my sails. This time was dark. And I was there for a long time. The memories still sting.

So I learned that no matter what I fought to build in my life, it could all come crashing down at any time. I felt like what was the point of anything.

I slept with a gun, and while it was for protection, it called to me in the darkness sometimes promising relief. Lying fucker. It brought a comfort in a twisted way, I could always leave. I had a way out, an exit, an escape from this twisted tale. There were times I must confess, it was hard to not take the way out presented.

But I knew there were people who cared about me even if they couldn’t understand what it was that drove me. That pounded into me and crushed me. I had to keep going, somehow.

So I began to rebuild again. I began to continue searching.