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.

Why do presidents and candidates bother to release tax returns?
Law profs: the Constitution means whatever we say it means
Mark Bodenhausen was a principled libertarian, but he was an even better human being
What if we’re more talented than our inner fears allow us to admit?
Maturity sees world’s ugliness with more melancholy than anger
Weddings are triumphs of love and hope over reasonable fears
FRIDAY FUNNIES
FRIDAY FUNNIES
As humans live in slums, why do I complain about my privileged life?