One of the problems with having lived one place for a very long time and then not living there (but not moving so far as one's never encountering one's old haunts) is that the patterns and habits of a lifetime are always lurking just below the surface.Went to a meeting down by Clark & Division tonight and was there and back via the Red Line. It wasn't so difficult going there, as it was my stop for 40 years, but going down to catch the El to go home (rather than walk a few blocks) is just messing with my mind (and heart, and soul).
Going back over the decades, when I hit Clark & Division I was HOME, even if I had to stumble through the dawn to actually connect with my bed. Now when I hit that (or my backup stop of Chicago & State) I have a long ride and stairs to look forward to, plus a few blocks of hobbling to get in. Each time it's like reality stabbing me, and twisting the blade about what I've lost and how dim my future prospects are.
I had a pretty coherent plan for killing myself this past new year's eve ... and every month that goes by reminds me of how sometime just ending things is a better bet than seeing what horrors the universe has in stock for me. If I was being fished out of the lake on January 1, 2018 I'd not have to been through the nightmare this year has been. It would just be OVER. Cut to black.
Another bad decision that is going to make things suck for as long as I'm sucking air.
