I think I’m happier than I used to be, more satisfied. I still yearn, I still regret, I’m still bummed and frustrated and mean and shitty and weird, a lot of the time, actually. But less of it than I used to be. 

My life has gotten better and better for a while now. College in Baltimore feels like a low water mark, but then I moved back home, started woodworking school, met Abby, visited the west coast for a while, came back, bought a house (with a lot of help), moved to the country (with a lot of help), had Roby (with a lot of help).

These are all good things and I feel improved and happier for having been a part of them. For them having happened to me. 

This past year though has been a real bastard, but it also has been a cake walk. Every moment with Roby is a treasure and a pleasure...a tleasure. And not just something to be grateful for, but something to savor because it’s so sweet and so light and so fun and so funny. She is a riot at all times. 

Simultaneously work has been tough, the economy tougher, society weirder, and everything just sideways and slipping to more of an angle all the time. How can I square that feeling of growing anxiety and impeding doom with how great my home life and Roby is? 

Compartmentalization, I guess. But therein lies the problem when your life is all teased up with family, but that makes it easier too, when you know it all matters. 

I cannot imagine how isolating it must be when there are struggles at work that amount to little more than, some anonymous thing is doing worse, some anonymous people are doing this or that, some line is going down and to the right instead of up and to the right. 

Being close makes it harder but also better.