When

I am still alive. I am married, with two cats, the same job at a bar that has nothing to do with social work but pays better than anything I could find in social work, and a little house in Delaware. And we desperately want kids in a few years. When did I become so normal? When did all of my emotional trauma, like a tangled roll of yarn, just…unravel itself. When did all that damage just get subsumed by paying bills, going to work, painting the walls of our new house? Funny, you would think that would make me happy. But I feel like I am searching for it. At least that way I would know where it is, so that it can’t come sneaking up behind me in the dark one night and pounce on me when I least expect it.