8

Am I over it? That's debatable.

In many ways, yes. I have a home. A car. I still have Lily. I've only lost one family member while Mark lost two. We've gained some in-laws on both sides, as well as watched the third/fourth generations begin. The Saints won a Superbowl, I'm still working my same job. Mark has a job.

But I still take my meds. I still am dealing with the worst year of my life, redux.

I should have been not at work and doing something drastically different today. It didn't happen.

I had to drive down Claiborne to catch the Interstate. Didn't really think about it until I could see Benson Tower, formerly the Dominion Tower. That was my front row seat to the roof blowing off of the Superdome. I still can't handle a certain entrance to Champions Square, which is by the door where we watched the water rise while we had our sanctioned looting of the downstairs convenience store.

I drove past our former lot. Apparently, our landlord sold it. There is a fence around our neighbor's lot and giant pilings in the air and the ground on our lot. Someone is building a home. I wish them more luck than we had.

I'm dealing with all of this alone tonight while Mark works the Saints broadcast.

I think I'll go to bed early.

I just couldn't bear that.

I know it has been almost a year since I last published here. But 33 was the worst year of my life, other than 26.

26 was Katrina.

33 was secret pains and public aggravations.

This blog started as ridiculousness. It became a tragic outlet. I didn't want it to always be that.

As I was turning 33 last year, an erstwhile relative-in-law told me, and I quote, "33 is your best year. It was my best year. It's everyone's best year. You're going to have the best year of your life."

What I forgot is that this person is essentially evil incarnate, and that her words were a curse, not a blessing.

33 was horrendous. I won't go into details, because then this blog slips back into tragedy, and there's no need for that. But here's a timeline:

August 9: Got great, surprising news. September rolled around, and by the 9th, that was no more.

Nov. 26: An idiotic neighbor caused a major problem to some property.

Nov. 30: Devastating news out of left field.

Dec. 22: Hooray! Redo of the August thing!

Jan. 3: Something could be awry, but probably all is well.

Jan. 17: Got my car back.

Jan. 31: Nothing is well.

Feb. 1: One-day surgical procedure.

Feb. 9: Another idiot neighbor caused worse damage, in several different ways.

March: Got my car back again.

June 19: Hooray! Another redo!

June 30: Hmm. That can't be good.

July 4: Not again.


And so, in all of the vagueness, I have had a horrendous life this past year. Very few people know what some of those things are. I'll keep it that way.

But that's why, for the past year, I've said nothing. I need something really good and positive to happen in order to overshadow how awful 33 was. 34 happened June 10, but the bad which followed all happened because everything was set in motion while still 33. I can only hope that the curse is finally over. I can't handle much more. I'll be back as things are good.