I had my time off, and it was well-deserved. I took a hard look at myself and what I had let happen around me. I was given a dose of tough love, and I needed it. One thing rang clear when the smoke cleared.
I need to be more honest, especially with myself. There was something that was hard to admit that was festering beneath the surface, and I had finally gotten to it. What I thought would destroy my life ended up relieving my stress, helping me move on, helping me respect my marriage, my wife, her relationship, her love, our love.
Some of the things about me are still hard to admit openly, but I’ve come to terms with the things that make me “different”, make my life “different”. Those who know me privately know what these are. Some have likely guessed. These are the worst kept secrets of my life either way.
But I’m doing myself a disservice by not being completely honest in my life and in my writing. I’ll be making strives to correct that.
Bear with me, dear reader.