Chapter Eight
Monday, February 2, 2015
The winter is not good for me. I find my hands get cold, and the agility of my fingers is compromised by the weather. In the fall, a year ago, at the cusp of winter my anxiety was rising. I became very depressed. I hadn’t been intimate with a woman in seven years and I was packing up my spirit to hibernate after Amy, my roommate, decided she wasn’t going to participate when I tried becoming romantic with her. Last year, same as this year, I was also getting ready to move my spirit into my room, so it didn’t freeze. It’s a cold, cold world out there even when it’s just ten degrees below zero.
It was the end of November, just over a year ago. I couldn’t sleep at night. I began crying every day. I called up Pastor Derek and told him how much I missed
