Broken and Busted Stuff

It was 1996, a week or so after my birthday.  I was reading the newspaper and saw the wedding announcement of someone I used to know.  The actual event took place three months earlier or so,  out-of-state, but it only was printed then.  It triggered something in me, a panic attack.  All the frustrations of going to a school I didn't like, twice missing deadlines for grad school, not finding a job in my chosen field six months after leaving my last one, never going anywhere or doing anything, never figuring out the social or dating scene, and worst of all, losing contact with everyone I ever knew, even those I considered my closest friends.  I could barely talk for the rest of the day and part of the next.  I'm amazed I could even drive.  I felt alone and forgotten, a failure.  My spirit broke.  The world had given up on me, so I gave up on the world.  Don't get me wrong, I wasn't a complete shut-in; I spent at least one day a week outside of home, but I barely did anything.  I tried to apply for newspaper jobs, but I lost interest in the field and gave up after a year or two.  Graduate school requirements changed and I ultimately forgot to try to apply again.  I was limited to about a thirty mile radius from home for driving and never at night, so I had no social life or opportunity to date.  Even if I hadn't, I wouldn't have known where to go or what to do once I got there, not without someone's help.  I didn't even go to local weddings of people I knew, even to one of my friends I felt closest to.  I can't remember if knew beforehand or not, only that it was open invitation and I felt too proud not to be personally invited, although it was really because I felt too ashamed to be seen as a failure.  That still bugs me because it would have freed me from my dull existence so much sooner and make me happy.  I even tried to write letters to some friends, even though I knew they would probably never receive them since I had no way to send them..  At least it eased my mind.  This went on for four years, until I was forced to open my book store, Booknotes, because my mother couldn't stand me being a slacker bum any longer.  It was only supposed to be a stopgap until I found something better, but it has become a crutch that keeps me from moving on.  I basically want to become a professional writer, I guess, but I need some other career for support before I can try for it.  That is one reason I want to go back to school, to help find my way.  The obstacles are even harder for applying than they were then; that is why I have alternate plans set up for different fields, schools, and even degrees.  It still looks hard.  I can't have the store closed for more than one extra day a week, so I can't go anywhere for longer than half a day and even that seems rushed.  With an hour commute every night, I don't really have the time or energy for any sort of social life.  I am still uncomfortable around groups of strangers, sometimes, especially in unfamiliar settings, at least without support.  Technically, my only real social life is with my two or three online sessions a week with social media, and even that hasn't turned out quite the way I thought it would.  It is helping me feel connected again, but that is a topic for another post.