May 4th, 2026 - Process of Elimination

Dear TNY,

It was chilly here this Monday while I read “Process of Elimination”.

Another meh one.  I can’t seem to find a reason why this is important literature to publish.  Why was this an important story to tell?  I mean, the craft is good.  It’s arranged well and the details are good and it flows well.  But what’s it’s point, you know?  This is like a modern minivan.  It runs exceptionally as it is new.  Yet it’s been focus grouped to the point of disappearing entirely.  Where’s the 1953 Corvette, man?  Something that ran like shit but screamed at you to look at it.  Or the 1992 Viper?  That car didn’t even have a roof, windows, or external door handles.  But God, did you want to watch it. 

It's like these type of stories, they are missing a place or a purpose.  What are they here to do?  Am I to believe that recording this banality is representative of being human right now?  That this is the most important shit we have to offer?  Getting fired from a coffeeshop and then getting a job at Starbucks?  This is the human experience now?  How fucking lame.

In other news, I have elected to take the Vermont job.  They are nice people and I want to help their family win.  There isn’t enough winning these days.  I’m certainly not winning.  So, we’ll see how it works out.

I was having this particular feeling last week.  A yearning for a person.  And I tried to pin down when I first had the feeling instead of just concentrating on the yearn and spiraling (spoiler alert:  I spiraled anyway).  And the first time I can recall having it was probably deployment in 04-05, while I was still married, but it was only wisps of it.  And it was the yearning to touch my wife.  To be back home.  To not be doing the hard thing.  But it was the thing I was doing at the time and I persevered.  The most distinctive time I can remember it is in late 2015, when I was very first beginning to date K, and I was visiting my kids in Fruita, CO.  We were staying at the Motel 8, up late and watching the Discovery Channel.  And I found myself looking at my phone, but not for K, who did not come to Fruita with me because it was too new for that, but for C. C had, at that point, fucked my life up for three years; and had never and has never gone to Fruita with me.  And yeah, there were normal relationship issues where I made mistakes and she made mistakes; I don’t want this sounding like I did everything right.  I didn’t.  But she was fucking impossible and the main thing I did wrong was to allow her to ruin my life so catastrophically.

Anyway, I was looking for her on my phone.  And I couldn’t figure out why.  I had met this wonderful woman, K, who was super supportive of me having a family, and, her having already met my children, she loved them.  But I wasn’t with her for very long and this super deep bond had not formed yet (it did form later, though).  No, instead I was looking for attention from C, whom I had formed a deep bond with, knowing that there would be no support from her because there never fucking was.  In fact, it was the opposite of support.  She asked that I remove “we” from my vocabulary after I got divorced because she didn’t like to be reminded I had a family.  I can regale you with story after story about how I was made to feel shitty about having had a family by her, but I won’t.  But there I was sitting on the hotel bed looking at my phone when an email came in from her just saying that she missed me.  And I wanted to write back, dear reader, but I did not. I now know what this was.  Fishing.  Regardless, I still wanted her attention.

And when I was thinking about this last week, I realized it was in a moment when I really needed support.  Which was why I needed it then, in Fruita, the most emotionally detrimental place I’ve ever been, and why I need it here, where I’m at now, which is also emotionally detrimental.  So I called a friend last week after realizing this and we discussed the levels of support I have gotten in relationships, and who from, starting from now and moving backwards.  And guys, it’s not much.  Through this conversation, my friend and I realized that I have hated every adult job I’ve ever had, and I had most of them to support others.  And that’s what I was looking for from my partners was support as well.  And maybe I didn’t know what kind of support I needed or was unable to ask for it, but also there were times I did know and did ask and did not get it.  And particularly since late 2022, it’s been super bad.  I was still leaning on K then; I remember a phone call from the van at a campground in Fruita and I was crying and crying and I just wanted help and there was never help.  Or at least it felt like there wasn’t.  She was nice.  That time passed.  I dated a woman briefly and she made me feel nice for a bit before dumping me, which is okay.  She was way too young for me. 

So yeah, as my friend and I talked about it, we were just realizing that I allow these people to treat me like this.  And I know it’s happening.  But I believe in the best version of these people.  The ones they want to believe they are instead of the ones they actually are.  No one is the person they believe they are, certainly not me.  But yeah, it’s crazy that I have this yearning for people that didn’t and wouldn’t support me, moreso because of the bond than the person.  That’s not to say everyone did this to me.  My past is checkered like anyone else’s.  I’ve been the villain a time or two.  We all have.  What I’m saying, at least what I think I’m saying, is that it’s bizarre to yearn for something that didn’t and doesn’t exist.  It’s wasted sadness.  Like, I’m sad C wasn’t the person I thought she was.  But the reality is that she should be sad that she isn’t the person I thought she was; she should be sad that she is the person she is.

And, again, just so that we are clear:  I am sad I am the person I am.  I wish I had a magic eraser and could erase so many things about myself.  I don’t think it’s unhealthy to dislike parts of yourself.  At least it’s admitting they are there.  Can’t fix anything if you deny shit is broken. 

I just wish they had supported me more.  I feel like I’ve given myself away and now there’s nothing left for me.  No reason to be.  Like, I associate being used as love now.  I yearn to be used.

It’s really fucking sad.

But here we are.  Another Monday in the books.  Huzzah.

Nick