A most uncommon life

I've been taking more than my share of lumps lately. Sometimes, it seems, the universe stacks the deck against me in an attempt to see what I'm made of. It's given me gallbladder pain, financial woe, grieving friends and overwhelming emotional responses to all the above.

It has also, however, given me old friends who bring me cheese and let me cry, new friends who make me laugh at how preposterous it all is, family members who spend their commute catching up with me, offers to take me to lunch from 70 miles away, chicken and dumplings among the finest people in the world (regardless of whether it was bleeding or not) and an ex-wife-in-law who won't let me shoulder the tough stuff on my own.

Yeah, I'd say this is an uncommon life, for sure.

I returned to therapy last week, and during my appointment, Jeannie (that's the therapist; no, I'm not talking to Barbara Eden, circa 1967) asked me about my support network. And as I was describing it - you - to her, it washed over me ... the truth of who my support is. It's friends, it's family, it's friends who've become family. It's actors and Marines and writers and designers.

"Do you have people you can call when life spirals out of control?" Jeannie asked. "Several," I said, thinking of each of you and how you make up the most amazing buffet of lunatics and loved ones I've ever known.

So, consider this your warning: I've learned my lesson, and I understand that I don't need to support the universe squarely between my shoulders. I can, on occasion, pass it along to you, and allow you to hang onto it until I'm better equipped to pick it up again.

And, from time to time, I look forward to holding onto it for you, too.