“Past, present, future—it’s all the same.” That’s what the psychic said my dead boyfriend said from the other side. Now, as I peruse old journals, I see it’s true. What I struggled with then—all the thens, is what is what I struggle with now, just in different forms.

The chapters of my life repeat: ch.1 I’ve Got to Get it Together, ch.2 How Can I Get it Together?, ch.3 I’m Getting it Together, ch.4 Hallelujah!, followed by ch.5 Storm Ahead or, Shit, I Didn’t See That Coming, then ch.6 I’m Falling Apart, often followed by I Can’t Believe I’m Fucking falling Apart Again! leading full circle to I’ve Got to Get it Together and How Can I Get it Together?

Here, bingo! Ding! Ding! Ding! This is the most important chapter, yet maybe my least favorite. It comes after the crash. It’s picking up…