With a heavy heart I must announce

This week marks the two-year anniversary of my first article here on Lurking Rhythmically (and I still can't spell Rhythmically without a spell-checker). It's been a wild ride, but all good things, seasons turn, time to reap, time to sow, etc, etc. I'll be taking my leave, as I've signed on with a position with Gawker Media, contributing regularly to both Kotaku and Jezebel.

Nah, I'm just kidding. I'm not going anywhere. I would like to, though, while I have your attention get a few things off my chest. A number of years ago, under unrelated duress, I left the great city of Mobile, AL and moved to Texas. I took up residence, and eventually married, a long-time online friend. After a few years, we divorced, and I moved away. I've since been dealing with some emotional issues. When Erin and I first met, I was drinking myself to sleep every night, crawling off the couch and going to work, then doing it all over again.

Since then I quit drinking and moved to the wasteland (as I affectionately refer to my current desert home) have taken advantage of my job's health program and been to a bit of therapy. Due to events transpired during my time married, it would appear that I am currently in recovery of a case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, having experienced-

-god it's hard to type these words-

-having experienced what my therapist clearly referred to as domestic abuse. Between societal stigma of a man claiming an experience of domestic abuse, my ex-wife's best efforts to paint everything that happened as my fault, and the last words of someone I once felt was important to me doubting that it ever happened, it's hard to reconcile the thoughts in my own head. I'm still not up to telling the whole story. I'm not sure I ever will be. But I'm beginning to accept a few things and finally move past them.

I'm.. I'm not ok. I'm not sure I'll ever really be ok again, but I can say that I am, at least, within a mile of home.