Here we go again…

Early in 2013 I had a premonition (or a feeling at the very least) that I would not see another birthday.  That was even before I was diagnosed with a potentially fatal illness.  I was 45 years old, newly single again and saw little hope of finding happiness in the future.  My diagnosis in July was, in my mind, the universe’s way of saying I was right (sometimes predicting your own future really sucks).  But then my birthday came and went and I hadn’t died the way I thought I would so I recalculated my fate. I wouldn’t see another new year.  2013 would be my last even if I had to take matters into my own hands since my illness wasn’t going to kill me after all (ain’t medical science grand?).  It’s not the first time for me to attempt suicide.  I tried to kill myself when I was 18.  Although upon  reflection if I’d really intended to die, I’d have picked a better method than a bottle of over-the-counter sleeping pills.

When I learned that my housemate would be gone for Christmas and New Years, I fantasized about ending my life on Christmas day since I was going to be completely alone.  Yeah, I realized that would have spoiled the holiday for some people, but it would have been my final statement of how miserable I truly was.  If that didn’t work out, I could shoot for a New Years Eve death as a backup plan.  But fate threw me a curveball.  Someone I care about decided to come spend New Years week with me.  I couldn’t miss out on that and I didn’t want to disappoint him so here I am….  still alive and not quite so miserable in 2014.  What I’ve learned from 2013 is that I know I can’t reliably see the future (damn it).  I don’t know what’s coming next for me and I should just stop trying to predict (or worry about) the future since that’s how I make myself so miserable.

Happy new year?