It's that time of the year again. The time when the cupboards are mysteriously cleaned out of their sedatives, both prescription and non-prescription. The time when heavy-bottomed glasses and decanters are pushed to the back of the shelf, and the dollar store glasses and plastic cups are moved to the front. The time when the good dishes are put away. The time when more rye shows up in the cupboard under the sink, and disappears very quickly, to be replaced with another full bottle. Hatches are battened down. Long-term plans are not made, life altering decisions are put off till November. Don't sign anything! Don't take it personally! Agree to nothing! Just stay numb...

Today begins my official hurricane season. The barometric pressure begins to change. My hands begin to shake. Mr. Right loses sleep. Waiting. Waiting. Will it come this year? The big one? The perfect storm? 'Tis the season of walking on eggshells. The barrier between the past and present becomes thin, the demons are free to roam the range, and there's not a fucking thing that can exorcise them. They must go willingy back to their genie-bottles in their own time, which is always on a perfect schedule that the train company could take a lesson from: They come out to play the last week of August; they leave me on November 1. All Souls Day. The object of the game is to survive the visit.

'Twas but a decade ago that they paid a visit (not the first, not the last) and rationally convinced me to accompany them back to the pit in which they resided the other ten months of the year. They made so much sense. Why hang around? What good could come of it? I had so much pain, all I was doing was spreading it around like some kind of syphilitic whore, causing madness in everyone I touched.

Always a great maker of lists, and a great planner of plans, able to pull off the most amazing feats with limited notice, I sat down with a clean sheaf of paper and began to tidy my affairs, as it were. Like a drunk working the 8th step, I made a list of all those had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all. I listed my prized possessions, those which I could not bear to have sold off, and proceeded to give them away. My reasons? Well, I just don't have the space right now... I transferred huge amounts of stock holdings - tens of thousands of dollars - to Z's name without his knowledge (please don't ask about the things I had to do or the lies I had to tell to convince my broker to do this). I rented a storage locker for the remainder of my favorite things, and gave the key to Steve. Steve would know what to do. Steve, bless his heart, who never asked too many questions, never argued with something I felt was for the best. Steve, who was self-destructing at the same time, but I was too busy with my lists to notice.

I paid cash for my funeral. The cremation, service, casket and all are covered. I put the certificates in an envelope. Gave them to Steve, of course. Along with my credit and bank cards. And car.

Ok, it really didn't happen as quickly as I can write it out. It was, in fact, a long process, lasting the entire two months of the hurricane season. There was much to be done. Plans to be made. And things I wanted to do first. Like go back to New York. and finally admit to T how much I loved him. Stay in that fancy hotel by the lake. Find my long-lost Vince.

I admitted to T one night what my plan was. The pain in my gut when it made him cry hurt so bad that it felt good. I guess misery needed company. He was so good to me. But ever the manipulator, I talked circles around him till I had him as convinced as the demons had me. I had him so twisted and turned by the time I stopped talking that I could have convinced him to kill me himself. (I should have gone into law, and used this power for good instead of evil)

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It is obvious by the fact that I am writing this that I did not go through with it. No, at the last minute God's angel stepped in to slay those goddam demons - at least for that year. The strong arm of the boy with the golden hair and halo pulled me back out of Persephone's pit, back to the land of light. But was it worth it? Well, maybe. But only because I can see it for what it was. If I was as ignorant of it now as I was then, then it would have been for naught. If I had learned nothing about the potential for divinity in every one of us, then it would not have been worth it to break that boy down to nothing, dragging him through worse filth and agony than any of Hollywood's horror masters could dream up. It would not have been worth it to destroy him if I didn't begin each day thanking him for the life I have. After devouring every inch of goodness and innocence in him, only then would I have ingested enough to keep going. Leaving him with nothing.

But God rewards those who do his work. And in time he found strength to leave me, to start to live for himself. When he left me, it broke my heart, but it didn't break me. Never again would I be so low, so damaged. Year after year the demons continued to come for their autumn vacation in my heart, but they would never dig in and break me down the way they did then. As for T, I let him go. It was the only thing I could do for him. I let him walk away, and wished him well. I swore I would stay as far away from him as I possibly could, to let him have the life he so richly deserved.

And he has. In a fit of gratitude three years ago, I tracked him down. Dropped him an email. It was soul-baring, but not upsetting to him. I simply thanked him for all he had done, and for every day I have lived since - the good and the bad. I thanked him for Mr. Right, because without T, I would never have found him. I thanked him for my marriage, my friends, every good thing that had happened to me since the day he picked me up off the floor of the ninth ring of Hell. He responded. Sent me pictures. I deleted them. Too hard to look at. But he's happy. Life has been good to him. His career has flourished. He had everything he wanted and needed, including the perfect girl he will marry next year (I write him every year now on his birthday, and he always sends back an update). And I thank God in my prayers for that every day.

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Last night, after the terrible Harper cocktail party, I teamed up with the Cool Kids for dinner and drinks. Had to salvage what I could of the night before it ended. On the way home in my friend's car, conversation all around, he turned up the radio, saying he liked the song. Good writing, he said. I listened. Though the conversation continued around me, I was oblivious to it.

In my sick way I want to thank you for holding my head up late at night
While I was busy waging wars on myself
You were trying to stop the fight
You never doubted my warped opinions on things like suicidal hate
You made made me compliment myself when it was way too hard to take
So I'll drive so fucking far away that I'll never cross your mind
And do whatever it takes in your heart to leave me behind

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And so begins this year's Season. But it'll be okay. I'll stay low, keep numb, shut out the damn demons as best I can. I have a pretty good idea what this season has brought me; what they've dropped at my door. But it's cool. I can handle it now. Even their gifts have an element of beauty in them that I never saw before. I'll go along for the ride, and enjoy it any way I can. And I'll avoid making lists, tempting as it may be....