Starting over, from the Middle of the Book

Let’s try this again.

I’m forty.  I work in a dead-end job, don’t have place of my own, and I haven’t gotten laid in about 10 years.  In technical terms, I’m a brute–I work, eat, sleep, and aside from the usual family get-togethers, I don’t have much social interaction with the outside world. Physically, I’m a mess–obese, near-sighted, achy from old injuries, sleep apnea, and a penchant for drinking heavily.  Psychologically, I’ve been diagnosed with dysthymic disorder, and I’ve had a dysfunctional family upbringing that colors my self-esteem like nobody would believe.

That is the general description of my world; and, up until I discovered that I had cancer, and almost died–twice–in the last 8 months, I was pretty much resolved to dying that way–miserable, lonely, and generally fucked up.

In short, I’m a mess.

The question is, can I clean that mess up?

You see, my visits from the Grim Reaper woke me up–made me look at my life; and I came to the realization that I don’t want to die like this.

So, I have to clean up this shit, and start living.  Maybe this is a “mid-life crisis”, but it’s not going to get solved by buying a fast car.  So, here’s is the plan:

1) I need a real job–a career.  Something where people won’t look at me and think, “Well, isn’t that low-brow.”  I need something where I feel, at the end of the day, that I have accomplished something.

2) I need a place of my own–no more room-mates, no more “family help”.  It has to be a place of my own, a place that I am responsible for.

3) I need to get back into shape.  It’s not going to be easy, but I’m dead if I don’t.  I know I’m dead in the long run, but the longer I let myself go like this, it’s going to be the short-run that does me in.

4) I need a woman.  I’ve been without for ten years, and I am sick of it.  I need to learn how to date all over again–and I need to learn how to find a woman that’s worth being with.

I figure, after all the chemo from my cancer treatments, I’ve got about 20 years of life left in me.  I don’t want to live those 20 years the same way I lived the previous 40.  No way.  No how.

Can I do it?  I don’t know.


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