Done.

For those of you who have been paying attention, my life has been a pretty big mess for quite a while, culminating in a serious midlife crisis which saw its ultimate depressive breakdown a couple days ago. Thanks to the help of a variety of people, professional and otherwise, I’ve made it through without killing myself or killing anyone else. What it comes down to is this: I’ve been struggling for some time to find my true calling in life. It started with a failed attempt to become an art therapist, which was ultimately a disaster that doesn’t really bear repeating. It ended with a desire to become a professional fine artist, an attempt that was met with some limited success, which complicated matters tremendously. I have also entertained a career as a writer of literary fiction as a possible close second, perhaps rolled into the art career as sort of a dual creative tour-de-force. Well, I have finally come through the fire, and have seen the truth, as it is, of my life.

I am going to take the nine-to-five job working with the developmentally challenged. I am going to give Prozac a try, and see what happens. I am going to be with my family, and I am not going to be a professional artist, or a professional writer, or anything other than a loving father, because ultimately that is what I am here for. There may be paintings or stories left to paint or write, but that is not who I am. I have come through the fire. I have seen the ultimate darkness, and begged for my own death, and I know the truth, and will seek no further in this lifetime.

Oh, and I can’t really drink much wine while I’m on the meds, but that’s okay. Wine just gets better over time, and I have all the time in the world.

Namaste.