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.

There are lessons for our lives in the joy and innocence of children
What’s the best word for those of us who just want to be left alone?
What are you likely to regret when it’s too late to change?
Market failure? Why do we have so many overeducated people?
Monkeys celebrating new donation button, hoping for more bananas
Goodbye, Anne (2009-2019)
When we don’t feel understood, we feel lonely even in a crowd
In the great new culture war over Thanksgiving shopping, I’m neutral