Back in January I wrote a rather cryptic post about this blog and my involvement in its future. Something in my life had suddenly changed, rendering normal activities like writing about the Spurs entirely meaningless. Since then I have wanted to write about what happened and have thought much about the composition of that post. What exactly to say and how much detail to include.
I never once deluded myself into expecting any reader of my blog to care. You come here for sports content with a little piece of the author mixed in; preferably the "funny piece" or the "pissed off piece that curses way too much." I understand what this blog is supposed to be about, and how poorly what I am about to say fits into that purpose. Yet I am compelled; this post is finally going to be written, for better or worse, for a multitude of reasons. Think of this as an explanation, an excuse and apology for my lack of involvement, a warning and public service announcement, both a life's dénouement and introduction.
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My wife left me in January. On the evening of January 17th, a Tuesday, she told me she had serious doubts about our marriage. I knew we had problems; issues that needed to be worked on. I also thought our relationship had been growing stronger during the recent months and was never more excited about my future with her. Buying a house, watching her start a career, taking a vacation to Hawaii, starting a family... I couldn't wait; and I felt like I loved her more than ever.
On the afternoon of Thursday the 19th, less than 48 hours after mentioning her marital doubts, she told me over the phone that she would be sleeping at a friend's place. She came by that night to pick up some things and the next day I was on a plane to San Antonio. She called me that Saturday to tell me she was 100% sure she wanted a divorce. She recommended a book to me, a book she had already read, a book whose title will certainly not be mentioned here, a book which describes how "relationships are journeys that are meant to end."
I have seen her twice since returning from Texas and, barring our path's randomly crossing, I doubt I will ever see her again. She's gone.
I tried desperately to save it; my marriage, my life. I tried to make sense of her actions; tried to find a friend of hers that saw this coming (as far as I know none of them did); tried to understand what I possibly could have done to warrant such a sudden divorce; there was no infidelity, no abuse. (Don't get me wrong, I made many mistakes; most of them unintentional, but mistakes nonetheless.)
I have no plans to provide any further details regarding the divorce. I will never use this or any other space to speak ill of my ex-wife. I included the above to give you an idea of the brutal suddenness of the ordeal. I do not think I have the ability to fully describe what it felt like, though I can honestly say every feeling experienced before that evening paled in comparison to the pending onslaught of emotions.
I do not know if one can prepare oneself for losing the one person you truly love, the best part of your life and your entire emotional foundation. Nor do I know if it is even worth the effort. Nonetheless I feel the need to recommend everyone take a step back and evaluate the ramifications of losing that certain someone. Who would you turn to? Who would stand by you as you fell apart? What would be left of your life? What would be left of you?
I did not have adequate answers to any of those questions and sadly it almost ended me. It was my mother who saved me that Thursday afternoon:
"It's ok. You don't have to be sorry. We love you. Come home."
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Much has changed in the past six months. I found some answers and some found me. I have received immense amount of empathy and compassion from certain people in my life, some of whom I could never repay with words or deeds. They know who they are.
I started seeing a therapist and it was nothing like I thought it would be. There is a couch, though, and you can lay on it if you so choose. I highly recommend it to anyone who's ever even thought about going.
I finally admitted, once and for all, that I absolutely abhor my job as a structural engineer. I derive no joy, pride or fulfillment from my profession and my reasons for choosing this career were poor to say the least. So I am not going to do it anymore. I have yet to actually quit because I actually have a damn fine job. The pay and benefits are good, I don't have to work overtime and I basically make my own hours. But I have already started taking community college courses in preparation for a new career in medicine. I may get a PhD in pharmacokinetics and explore the areas where numerical methods and drug development meet.
Though I would actually prefer to be a writer. No, not a sportswriter. I have had this book in my head for over two years now and I have finally started writing everything down. It is called The Salvation Advisor. It should be good unless my general lack of talent gets in the way.
I started running in January. A lot. Enough to lose 35 pounds in two months. I now run at least 5 days a week (30-40 miles) and am training for the Portland marathon. I am in the best shape of my life and feel terrific.
Lastly, I am 95% sure I am moving back to Texas next summer. I'll miss Seattle terribly, but once I quit my job there will not be all that much left for me here. And, being single, buying a house or condo is simply not an option unless you make six figures. I don't know many college students who make that kind of scratch, so Austin will be my new home. Frankly, it is the only city in Texas that I could bare to live in for more than two weeks at a time.
So, am I still going to maintain this blog? No, not to the extent I did last year. I have followed their personnel moves this off season (which I just may comment on eventually) and will undoubtedly watch just about every game next season. Part of me still wants to write about The Sickness, the stupidity of Isiah Thomas and Tim Duncan's hair. But with work, school, running and The Salvation Advisor I simply will not have much free time.
I certainly do not want this blog to just disappear or become entirely irrelevant. I hope our friend Mr. Stampler continues to contribute throughout the season, and maybe one of our dozens of readers will get the itch and join the team.
Thanks for reading. I wish I could come up with some eloquent ending to this post; instead I'll close with a lyric from one of the dozens of songs that have kept me company the past six months.
"A lot of hours to occupy,
It was easy when I didn't know you yet
Things I'd have to forget
But I better be quiet now
I'm tired of wasting my breath
Carrying on, getting upset
Maybe I have a problem
But that's not what I wanted to say
I prefer to say nothing
I got a long way to go
Getting further away"
--Elliott Smith