This story is about me. Only me. It’s about my ego and insecurities and fears and needs.
I typically write what I think might be useful for others to know and understand, but this is different. It’s more like a diary entry. A confessional. A cry of frustration.
It’s the sort of thing I would address to a wife or partner or trusted companion — if I had a woman in that role. It’s my half of a conversation which I would need to have with someone who loved me and believed in me and was permanently a part of my life.
So this probably isn’t for you.
I’m struggling right now. In many ways, things are the best in my life that they’ve been for at least 20 years. I have stability and purpose again. I know where I want to go. I’m more clear about my values and my priorities than I’ve ever been in my life.
But I’m struggling with the gap between how things ought to be and the reality I see in front of me. And that gap terrifies me — because nobody lives forever.

Without the state, who would plow roads? We and our neighbors will
When Demopublicans and Republicrats clash, you lose
Bias, incompetence or manipulation? Things aren’t always what they seem
Was I ‘fat’? ‘Lazy’? My father’s ugly words made me feel shame
Gay marriage debate turns into fight for validation of private beliefs
Folks all around are waiting for someone to say, ‘Hello in there’
Goodbye, Lucy (2012?-2025)
New Star Trek film is reminder that adults aren’t running Hollywood
How did memory get it wrong? Why did I edit truth about her?