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.

A haunting question: ‘Where is love now, out here in the dark?’
Attaining excellence may require some time in painful mediocrity
Don’t show me the past or the future; show me what you can give now
If foreigner had killed 16 Americans, we wouldn’t be looking for excuses
Her dad didn’t want to help her, so here’s a jack-o’-lantern for Hannah
I’m slowly learning how to be contented as an ordinary man
Social media creates shallow ties at expense of deeper connections
Looking for the Boston scapegoat? You’ll never find perfect security