I dunno if you're allowed to "win" more than once, but what the hell.
Your pain does not make you special.
I've started counting the days until I leave, literally. 32. I ship out Oct 2nd. (and my b-day is a week later, that's going to be "fun.")
I'm not worried anymore. Maybe writing had a cathartic effect. Yeah, I'll blame it on that. And I gave my notice at the mcjob. I've changed subtly -- I roll out of bed and I want to go for a run, I want to do 50 push-ups in a minute, I want to recite my 11 general orders in phonetic alphabet.
Sweet zombie jesus, I'm crazy...
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