And I’m gonna talk about the guy from my past — who will remain nameless — because I’m tired of being afraid. I’m tired of the overwhelming need to go underground every time something happens that makes me think he’ll find me. It’s been over a decade since I ran away from him and I don’t even know if he’s still looking for me or if he’s even alive anymore. I left everything behind me, went into hiding, and eventually changed my name because he put his hands around my throat and tried to end my life one crazy night in 2006. That was after seven months of his psycho craziness in my house. The man is insane, dear reader. Certifiably insane. And I want nothing more of his insanity.
But, as I said, I’m tired of hiding. If he’s still looking for me after all of this time, well he’s aged as much as I have. I’m not the same person I was when we were together, and I’m sure that neither is he. As Doug has pointed out once or twice, he might have moved on to another victim by now. Like, I don’t wish his insanity on anyone, but it’s possible. All I know it has been incredibly stressful looking over my should all of this time, and I need to cast that off. Even with the cloak of anonymity, it’s still be stressful. Like, I’m not going to stand on the rooftops and shout, Here I am, asshole! Come get me! I mean, if he is still looking for me, I’m not gonna make it easy for him. But I am going to stop uprooting my life, online and off, just because there’s a chance that he might find me.
You might wonder, dear reader, how I came to this epiphany. Well, it’s the same thing that came to me yesterday about my diet. I mean, I know I wrote a blog post not too long ago about why I stopped caring about what I ate, and that is still totally true, but there’s another layer that I didn’t take into account when I wrote that post. COVID-19. It occurred to me that I really stopped caring about my diet after the quarantine was put in place. Like, why bother when I could come down with this deadly disease and die at any time? And here’s the funny part. I live in the now. Always. I know that I can die at any time every day of the week. It’s something I accepted a long time ago. This is not a new thing. But for some reason, COVID-19 put my “live in the now” mindset to the test. And the whole “live in the now” thing means that I should cherish each moment I have because it’s the only moment I’m guaranteed. That’s the long and short of it.
But how, dear reader, can I cherish each moment, if I have an underlying fear of some boogieman who may or may not be looking for me? And how can I live in the moment if worried about the food that I’m eating? Like, I know that there’s a high chance I won’t die in the next hour or two, and I should eat to make those few hours acceptable. You know? Same with Mr. No-name. There’s a high percentage that he’s not going to show up today and ruin my life, so I should totally stop expecting him. COVID-19 is a real and present danger, and I know that, but Doug and I are taking all precautions not to catch it, so I should stop expecting to magically catch even though I never leave the house. Death will come to me as it must come to everyone. That’s a fact I came to terms with a long time ago. And today, as with every day, I’d rather it wait until tomorrow. You know? And that’s my resolution, to stop expecting death, or a fate worse than death — which, to tell y’all the truth I’m actually more afraid of — from either COVID-19 or from What’s-his-name.
To live in the now means to live in this moment. Right now. And I intend to get back to that.