Excuses, Excuses

"There is no excuse for my behavior, but there are many reasons"
--Some cool old actress

Been hella busy with my last few weeks at work, and have been spending my "down-time" in fits of sobriety with lotsa reading and contemplating my life.

With a clear head, I've come to an important realization. And when I heard it for the first time four years ago sitting in a leather chair with tissues in my hand, balling my eyes out, I refused to believe it. But noticing patterns of my behavior, I think it's evident and I think my therapist is correct.

I have a lot of fucking issues and really need to go into therapy. Too bad, I flee the country and the mistakes I've made for the last three years, in two and a half months.

Why is it that I always come to terms with my need for mental help when I am about to peace out of a destination?