So much of what I cared for left me unnourished.

Definitely my tawdry marriage with my lovely egomaniac! I spent my whole time with her doing props, backstage, getting no notice except what I could find in the wings when she wasn't onstage. My  battle with this cypher yielded as much warmth as any love/hate relationship with a hotel lobby armchair or, say, a kitchen mixer. 

Never mind trying to justify her mysterious ethics and relentless self-advocacy, which created our rhythm of unstated conflict. I was not the only target of her attacks. I've apologized here many times to those I watched her carelessly damage.

 (I just heard her voice on a phone call half an hour ago...first time in 18 months.  Made my blood run cold and I left the call while she spoke, so I empathize about how she feels about me. I wonder if I sound as old and stressed on the phone as she does.  I don't sense the stress thanks to Zoloft, so I guess I just sound old and sad, which would be how I feel.)

Second:  Maybe the last five years of my work life? I don't really understand my feelings about that—just figuring it out now on my own. The daily worry compounding an increasing inability to complete tasks. I've worried too much on behalf of others. Left myself toward last during tough stretches. 

Then: My time with my brother. I love you Glenn but you're not the greatest source of warm fuzzies—-or recognition.

And: My high school friends. A small dose of Harvard fucks up even the nicest people.

And: Being co-op board president at 67 RSD. God. Yuck.

Finally for now: My old group of NYC friends. They were great but mostly cerebral. I had complicated needs and never much chance to express them. I am not an advocate like my ex-wife. I expect people to see what's on the page in front of them. To not accept lies at face value. In my case I just wish they'd have been more my type.