This past month has been, without a doubt, the WEIRDEST month of my life.
1) I got a raise at work, after I was told I would NEVER get one. I've been there for 8 years.
2) I got my 1st book published. I was told that it would NEVER happen, but I did it anyway. The printing process should be starting this next week or so.
3) I found my sadistic bio-dad...SOMETHING THAT I WAS TOLD WOULD NEVER, EVER HAPPEN! I even spoke to him on the phone. He was exactly how I figured he'd sound: A pickled old batsturd. (Yes, I said 'batsturd').
These things...things that everyone around me said would never happen...they happened. The raise was nice, like "surprise! It's christmas in june!" Getting my book published (which is 1 of 8 out of the series I wrote)...that was just too surreal, like a dream-come-true. Finding my father? This is a man I haven't seen or spoken to in 30+ years. All I did was call the Jacksonville FL police department, asking if they could do a "wellness check" on my "dad." I gave them the last address I could find online, and 20 minutes later, his hillbilly girlfriend calls back. They thought I was some kind of bill collector or something, and when he found out who I was (his spawn), he broke down in tears.
I am still waiting to wake up, or for the other shoe to drop. I have some closure as far as my father goes. He was a sadistic monster years ago, and thanks to the copious amounts of drugs and alcohol, he is officially a pickled old man.
The problem I have is I am so "conditioned" to disappointment and failure and the horrible reality that nothing good has ever happened to me that I don't know how to be "happy." I like to say that my pets make me happy, or beef jerky makes me happy, or getting through town without hitting a single red light makes me happy. But I don't think I've ever been genuinely "happy" about anything, because I have an impeccable track record of rotten luck. I grew up and in spite of my mother's best efforts, I was still molested and raped by so-called "trusted" family members; I was demeaned and made fun of because I thought differently than the rest of the brats at school did; my artwork was too weird and too dark for "normal" people...you get the picture.
So, in light of all the good and positive things that have FINALLY been happening to me, I can't help but wonder...why the hell can't I feel happy now that things are going good?