BLOG:REKNOWING
Welcome 2014…
And so in comes 2014 with a kiss with a woman whom I’d had eyes on for quite awhile at the local health/tennis club. I didn’t have the guts to ask her out, fearing if she rejected me I’d have the repeated humiliation of seeing her any time I went to the club! I know, YOLO, right? Even better, we ended up making out on the dance floor at Fitzgerald’s. I’ve definitely had worse New Year’s Eves. We began dating shortly thereafter.
Flailing About…
A few words on the delay since the last post (my mother’s eulogy, notwithstanding). My post where I outed myself for engaging a “Facebook Affair” did not go over very well with my children, which shouldn’t have been a surprise to me, but it was because in my haste to get it off my chest and move the story along, I did not give sufficient thought to what the effects would be closer to home. I should have handled things differently. I am very sorry I did not.
On Therapy… Part Tres
Wherein the inevitable move to the suburbs ensues and Baby Number Dos Arrives
When we last left the riveting life story of my intrepid self, we had just given birth to our first baby, the lovely Marguerite Mae, I had started taking Zoloft and I gave up alcohol after 18 years (I was 32; do the math – it ain’t pretty). We were living and working in the up-and-coming West Loop area of Chicago. We had it all – a baby, a rapidly growing business in an amazing rehabbed 1800’s timber loft, another gorgeous 1,700 square foot loft with a panoramic view of the city of Chicago and two BMWs (man I loved that car). And yet I felt… numb? disconnected? overwhelmed? All of the above. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I was doing all the things!
The Other “D” Word
I’ve had this one in the can for awhile. This seemed like an appropriate time for it to drop, as you’ve been quickly brought up to speed on the first 30 years or so of my evolution here and here.
Debt, Divorce and Drinking. The Triple Crown! I had my first alcoholic drink in New Jersey at around age 13. It was from a bottle of Southern Comfort my friend swiped from his folks. We drank from it in a tiny little fort we built from materials scavenged from construction sites into the side of a hill on the edge of a woods in an empty lot across the street from my house. You might wonder how or why I had any interest in continuing to drink after tasting that godawful swill. Good question. I guess I was committed to escaping. Or looking cool. Or something! Blech.
On Therapy… Part Deux
This is the second in what is a series of posts on this topic. The first post is here. Hang with me as I get through all this background info. It gets more interesting, I promise!
My first less-than-productive therapy session left a really bad taste in my mouth. It was a shame because, man, I could have used some assistance. The next several years were an absolute whirlwind (as if the first 25 hadn’t been). Less than six months after being named one of the youngest Product Managers ever in the Digital & Applied Imaging division of Kodak, I accepted an offer to move to New York City to work for a gray market film & paper dealer in Brooklyn who (unlike Kodak) saw the writing on the wall and wanted to move into digital. He put his money where his mouth was, pushing my salary (just) into six figures….
On Therapy… Part 1
This is the first in what will be a series of posts on this exciting topic. Buckle up.
I was born in Madison, Wisconsin in 1969. I lived in 11 cities before I turned 16, which may actually be more than the typical Army brat. This translates to three elementary schools, two middle schools and three high schools. My parents were barely 22 years old when I was born after having been conceived out of wedlock while they were in college. Their fathers were both WWII veterans who spent their entire careers as carpenters. My maternal grandfather was a Marine who saw hand-to-hand combat with the Japanese in the South Pacific. He was home in Wisconsin on leave after jumping off the boat in an overcrowded San Francisco harbor when the United States dropped the atomic bombs and the war ended. He proposed to his girlfriend, they got married and he rarely spoke of the war for the next fifty plus years.
BLOG CATEGORIES & TAGS:
STAY IN THE KNOW: NEVER MISS AN UPDATE
SUBSCRIBE TO MY BLOG
To be notified when a new post hits the site, fill subscribe to my blog.
I promise never ever ever to sell or give away your information.