whiling away the evening at the ALF in Reading, PA where I am pulling together the pieces of my life at age 62.
I had two traumatic New Year’s Eves in my life that came together in my mind last night in the ER of the nearby hospital. I have this weird infection on my wrist. They couldn’t supply the antibiotics because the pharmacy was closed today. I got one dose last night and had to trust in God for my healing until tomorrow.
I came here from a horrible four month psych stay that I barely survived. it was the second stay at that hospital.
So, New Year’s 1979 was ruined by my father and after 40 of psychoanalysis I have finally resolved this. New Year’s 1982 happened at an extremely exclusive location in old Manhattan and preceded my demise under the auspices of the Harvard undergraduate literary magazine. That left me back with my family in New Jersey on a forced leave of absence. I got a second shot at Harvard with two beautiful roommates, did some awesome coursework; it’s just too sad how things went from there. I wound up here near Reading at the state hospital.
Things took a turn I could never have imagined after that. I met a Canadian man, married him and took off for the West Coast. We lived a bizarre and fantastic life. i loved him but we were star-crossed. We had a beautiful son.
Life is so strange.
My son is grown and married; my husband is with someone else. It’s best that way.
It was one of the better New Year’s I’ve had.
Happy New Year’s.
Un.Bon.Mot 