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.

The shocking results are in: Here are the most popular posts from Year 1
I’ve jumped off a career cliff and now I have six months to find net
I wanted to be Capt. James Kirk; have I become Ignatius J. Reilly?
For me, Valentine’s Day seems to bring out my regrets every year
My need to make others perfect reflects my fear I’m not in control
A year later, late-night phone call and suicide threat still echo in me
Opinions without fact or reason leave us believing in nonsense
Humans are impatient, but changes in Alabama show speed of change
Real-life ‘ghost story’: The tale of a house that didn’t want me there