wow, I'm really feeling like a bit of a freak on this thread. It actually matters to me how I'm remembered. I guess it just means I'm vain or narcissistic or something, but it matters. You see, I had a good life up until about three years ago when abuse of prescribed amphetamines sparked a bipolar manic phase that included serious hypersexuality. I had been sober in AA for about 15 years and had tried to live by spiritual principles (not religion just trying to live an ethical life centered on honesty, being of service to others, etc.). I had a beautiful little family that I cherished (my daughter remains the most precious gift I've ever received), I was a respected academic whose work focused on human rights (including concern for sex trafficking, etc.). And then in this manic phase I betrayed all of that. I cheated on my loving wife, got involved with prostitutes - contrary to all my professed values to the contrary - got deeper into drugs (an escort I started seeing convinced me to try meth and then ending up sending a letter to my university VP about the meth.) They seized my computer and found really explicit discussions with escorts. I got fired. My wife discovered my infidelity when she discovered online a very explicit description I wrote of an encounter with an escort - can you imagine how much she suffered from that? I got arrested for meth possession and it was covered in the local paper. My ex had to to explain to our then 8-year old daughter that her father was in jail. Can you imagine the shame for her? I destroyed my family, my career, my place in society but most of all I completely destroyed who I was and everything I supposedly stood for. I did so many unconscionable things and I can't seem to get over the overwhelming sense of shame, remorse, regret and the immense sense of loss for the wonderful life I had been blessed with. Since I have to make my departure look like an accident to help spare my daughter the additional pain and trauma of a known suicide, I won't have the chance to say my goodbyes, to apologize for my behavior, to express my sincere remorse for the terrible things I did that were so contrary to the kind of person I had tried to be before I lost my mind. I guess I just hope that people will remember that I lived well for many years. I guess I want them to remember the person who was loving father, a decent husband, someone who cared about others, worked to improve the conditions of those who suffer oppression and exploitation. But I expect that the opposite will be true, They will likely remember me as a fraud, a cheat, a liar. And that prospect saddens me. I wish I didn't care about that, but I do. I especially hope that my daughter remembers that I loved her. That she brought me enormous joy. But I assume she will grow up and perhaps learn more about my terrible behavior that broke up our family and led to her father's public disgrace. I guess I just want what I can't have -- for people to remember the person I once was, not the person they saw fall apart.
