It didn't even occur to me that today's date would be so unique until I noticed several people making a fuss over it. Some think it's the greatest date ever, while others are awaiting 11/11/11 or 12/12/12. Here in the States, a few geeks are awaiting 3/14/15 9:26:53, which is how we Americans would write the date if pi were to be represented in it. (Get it? Pi, taken out to 10 digits, is 3.141592653.)
I really have nothing else to say on the matter. The date is unusual. Huzzah.
Also unusual, however, was the call I received just before 10:00 PM. It was Bryan, and we stayed on the phone for an hour and a half while catching up. We did that to a small degree when Becky and I saw him on Long Island, but I learned last night that he was avoiding talking about "the good old days," as he didn't want Becky to feel like an outsider. I would have found a way to include her, but he didn't know that.
And so we talked. He was rather curious about what happened to me when I vanished over a decade ago. So I covered the highlights of ten years in an hour and a half. As I covered much of what had happened to me, I found myself sinking into a dismal depression. There were very few good things to report. Thank G-d there were good things at all, because without them, I would have entered that psychological darkness that is so difficult to pull myself from.
The last Bryan knew, I was living with Robin in AZ, preparing to marry her. Then, without warning, I disappeared. There were times when he assumed I'd died. I mean, I was quite the mess back then, even before I was officially diagnosed with severe recurring depression. In a list, here's what I covered:
1: My one-legged fiance hopping out of my life, and the steps I took to survive without a job or money.
2: The six months I lived in Las Vegas, with Stu around the corner, but never really there when I needed him. I included my shoulder tear, consequent surgery, and flight from that dreadful, greedy city.
3: The return to NY, living briefly with my biological mother, and my almost immediate hospitalization for depression.
4: My biological mother's inhuman response to my suicide attempt, and the hospitalization that followed THAT. Included in this was the last time I saw her, which was in the hospital, with her more concerned about herself than her son, trapped in a psych ward.
5: Living in boarding houses for the next few years, the attack on me while I slept, the lengthy fight for Social Security, winning my benefits, and my return to AZ.
6: My time spent alone, interacting more with people online than I would in real life. This included the creation of the Depression Thread on GitP and the friends I've gained all over the world from my efforts.
7: The financial aid from some of those same friends, who essentially kept me alive when it turned out that I was living beneath poverty level.
8: How Stu demonstrated his inability to change, even after a life-altering experience, and treated me like a source of income, not as a brother.
9: The fact that someone from GitP chose to rescue me from utter destruction by bringing me into his home.
10: The "plans" I now have with Becky.
It looks like a short list, but when you consider how many blog posts there are pertaining to these very things, you'd start to realize I was lucky to get in even a few details during an hour and a half conversation.
I only ended the call when I realized I was draining the battery in my cell phone and needed it fully charged in case Becky needed to reach me for whatever reason. (She won't be getting off the bus for a few more hours.) That, and the hour was getting on to a point where I should take meds and head for bed.
It was good catching up, but I told him that our next call would be about him instead of me, me, me. I'm very interested to know how he became the civil servant that he is today. (He'd rather it not be mentioned because he works with criminals regularly...and he is NOT a cop.
So, Happy 10/10/10, everyone...even though the evening of 9/10/10 - that's the way other countries would write it - was far more eventful.