personal, writing-life

Why I Suck as a Human Being.

I didn’t accurately assess how isolating it would be to dedicate 100% of my free time to editing this series. No more personal Facebook, and no Twitter with my name on it. No email contact with anyone stay maybe 1 or 2 people now and then. I don’t think I’ve lived without some form of online social connection since 2002.

The loneliness is overwhelming, but it has made me realize what a complete fucker I am.

My spouse is going through a lot right now medically. His left leg is failing (he has an MRI scheduled to find the cause). Our insurance is excellent, so there’s no financial hardship to worry about, and he’s a software manager, his career remains unaffected. He’s struggling with turning 50, and feeling inadequate as a man because it’s impossible for him to do the things he used to (play tennis, hunting, hiking, and even walking is problematic).

I’m so emotionally defective that I can’t be there for him socially the way he needs—I’m putting my writing before my spouse. That fucking sucks. I should set the writing aside and make my spouse the priority—but I’m not capable.

He deserves better.


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