So alas it has again been a while since I've written but life has been . . . well . . . life. I was definitely right when I said that this year was going to be challenging and it definitely has been.

There are many stories to tell and so little time. And it will all come out in my blogs in time. Again, I am processing all of the trauma and THEN seeing the humor in it. Comedy is an organic, alchemical transition people. And if I didn't sort though it first, my writing of events may be seen as mere indecipherable symbols.

This year has been good and bad. Up and down. Stale and at times excilerating.

In short, I just spent the last two weeks living in my car. Though I've spent a night or two in my car before in the past, never was it this consistant. Though a couple of friends had me over on their couch here in there, much of my time was freaking out in my car, parked in a desolute church parking lot, surrounded by green ivy. It was only in the early morning that I was woken up by alanon goers. I pulled my chair upright, snapped my bra back on, and drove to work.

A lot of times I spent thinking how I got myself in that situation in the first place which was obvious. I put myself there. But still, how could I let things get that bad?

Nothing makes you face the reality of yourself more than your rearview mirror staring back at you in the face, night after night. I looked like a deer in headlights. Stunned out of my shelter. Would things get better? Would things get worse? My car has been in line for repossesion. Would I happen upon my car one day to find it - no longer parked, but dragging along the freeway back to it's birth home in Marina Del Ray? But there it sat. My storage in transition. My life moving forward in the guise of a screeching hault.