It's difficult to explain what happened after this. I went from a high-energy new york city finance position to working with my family (which was my plan all along) but this became troublesome as my mother was divorcing my father and my father decided to minimize his clientele--
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--so that my mom would have the minimum claimable amount. When she asked for more years of taxes he told her he would kill himself, and enforced this with several bouts of alcohol poisoning. My mother (a caring and empathetic person) agreed and, so, got the short end of the stick
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Working with my father and seeing this unfold I became deeply depressed. I couldn't work, not only because the clientele dried up, but because I was in deep emotional conflict about my parents. I jogged on the beach 7, 8, sometimes 12 miles a day. I listened to Asimov. I read.
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I realized that my relationship with my father was toxic, and so I wished him the best, I requested he pursue his bliss but I would take no part in it, and quite literally as his second wife said "don't worry, your father will buy you dinner" I shut the door and walked away
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I got an apartment and spent through all my savings. I had a lot saved up from my work but I spent all my time reading and jogging and playing hearthstone and chatting on boards and everything I could possibly do to exercise without deep contemplation
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I spent all my money. I lost my car. I had to walk one mile to the local burrito spot in order to earn $10 an hour. I had worked on the upper east side of manhattan. I had two chandeliers, two fire places, a balcony, my neighbors had expensive dogs. I walked home in wet jeans
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Eventually I started working at Costco. Now, I move heavy boxes 8 hours a day. I work 6 days a week, every week. My day off I spend resting. I listen to philosophers while my earbuds are hidden behind my face covering. I hunger for my own thoughts.
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If you follow me, this is what you follow. You follow the thoughts and replies of a hard-working man trying to get by. A man that pulled the muscle behind his left scapula but still works, breathing hard behind his surgical mask, wondering about haidt and neitzsche and popper
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so the next time you're at costco, that might be me
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To those that have read this brief and humble story of mine--I am grateful I don't intend to paint any villains or heroes. These are all people struggling, and deserve their own empathy. It has taken me some time to grasp that, but I am grateful I have. Thank you, friends.
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Man, that is a lot.

Hang tough bud.
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