I judge myself harshly. There is no time to procrastinate, what is wrong with me? I am human. I open Mahjong and the time passes like water down a drain. When I stop I say “no more.” I will get back to my research and writing, tomorrow.

As interesting as it is to see how far I have come by reading journals from decades past, the pain is as fresh and resilient as a new born dandelion. Most interesting are my interactions with god through random bouts of pleading for relief, death, and taking my children in his hands to care for as I could not.

I am an atheist. And no, I will not turn back to a non-existent god on my deathbed. I am slightly embarrassed by the lameness of my god reliance. I find the facing of reality far more productive and effective.

But for a few years in the mid-nineties I spoke of god as though he had some part in my life, he was my non-existent friend, without power to act but comforting to believe in. God was all there was to keep me from being completely alone with myself, a crutch to lean on, a fluffy teddy bear to hug in the dark of the night.

Perhaps had I believed more in me, I would not have fallen off the edge of the earth in the winter of 96-97. My children were estranged, my mother, whom I had prayed would die for years, was dying, and I nearly married a Sunday-school-teacher sex-abuser. Add to that attending the muck and mire of a family reunion and losing my job, by fall I was living in my car in the Kmart parking lot.

I was lost to reality. I had no ability to come back. I was “just fine.”

I departed North Carolina in a panic. Florida, AA, and 500 miles distance felt like my only hope of surviving. I was depressed, desperate, and as always, alone. Still homeless, within days I had returned to an abusive relationship. From there I entered a domestic abuse shelter, found a job, rented a room in a half-way house, and bought a bicycle.

During that time my children did not know where I was. I was so deep in self-loathing, shame, and guilt I could only think my children were better off without me. How could I face them? What could I say? I could not explain my actions to myself. I had no answers.

God did not help me. I will not give up my credit for every fight I fought or every time I had to pick myself up off the floor when life was bent on crushing me. I worked for survival, for progress, and for understanding. Nobody gave it to me. If I forget that, I might slide into complacency and start taking the easier way of leaving it all to god. Then I will lose.

I can do this. I can trudge through this book one moment at a time. I will procrastinate some days, but for self preservation.