It has been six years since I royally fucked things up in my marriage and my life. Almost five since the damage control really kicked in.
Six years ago I moved out of my home and into a little apartment to (hahaha it would be funny except it’s not) to find myself and start, uh, something. Nothing good, apparently. I did manage to blow up the family in spectacular ways. I managed to learn some brutal lessons about human nature and modern relationships. I made a friend or two that are still speaking to me.
After that missing year, much bullshit, and a few months of therapy, my wife agreed that I could come back. The divorce I thought was inevitable never came to fruition. We have moved on in a lot of ways in the time since. I think in a few areas we are forever stuck. I can’t just pretend this didn’t happen, nor pretend it isn’t my fault.
Eventually the ghosts will get bored and wander off, right?