#22 Getting serious, tornadoes, etc.

I’m back in New York today. Not even three full weeks in Los Angeles and an actual tornado hit my house, trees fell and ruined things, stop me if you’ve heard this one already. Right when I’d gotten my desk set up exactly so; right as I’d started pasting the index cards to the wall and waking up at the same time and getting into a delightful little writing routine. At the exact moment I started to live into a chapter of my life I’ve been supremely patient for, a fucking tornado comes.

I’ve written multiple versions of this essay and all of them have been annoying. Plus I’ve got to clean up my yard. But the point I’m trying to make (and the conversation I keep having with myself) goes something like this:

1. I thought completely changing my would life would be easier than this

2. HAHAHAHA

3. okay

When I first got sober I read Marianne Williamson’s A Return to Love at least three times. In it she talked about how when she hit her bottom and surrendered totally—when she finally stopped fucking arou…