My Personal Hell . . .

“Given the choice between the experience of pain and nothing, I would choose pain”
~ William Faulkner

I just watched my wife and little boy drive away.

I cannot seem to stop crying right now, but I think that is a good thing. I need to cry. I haven't been able to feel everything for the last few days. This hurts. I hurt. But this is reality and truth, and the truth will set me free.

My mistake. My small mistake . . . amplified a thousand times over.

I sit in my half-done house that I will have to sell (soon!) or face forclosure. Sam loved the house - was almost confused by the size and had recently discovered the backyard. I chased him around out there this morning before they left. He was tearing around giggling. I let him think he could outrun me.

I've ruined my wife's dreams of having a house. We had dreams. We had hope. I've crushed them - destroyed them. God may forgive, but I cannot forgive myself.

I have no paycheck with no paycheck expected anytime soon on the horizon. I am an MD without a training program or any place to go but home . . . Home.

I'm coming back to California with an unknown future. I'm looking at banruptcy and posisble divorce in the face of nothing substantial to hang my hat on for work. My wife will be away from me for the duration of this deciding if she even wants to stay married to me.

Why me? But that's the wrong question really . . . why not me? I am not special or unique. I am human and I make mistakes and will continue to make mistakes, but I will never make another mistake like this one again provided I remain vigilent. My life is not over, it's merely experiencing a huge fucking upheaval. This could be the greatest chance for me to grow personally, ever, in my life. I have to hold onto that idea. I have to believe there is a greater purpose than this. God does not bring His children this far to leave them by the wayside. I'm on the right side of this fight, but I already grow weary of the struggle. Thank God for the recovery community in Dayton, OH and those who have been supportive back home.

One hour at a time . . . one day at a time . . .

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.
Amen.