I was told when I hit thirty and was catastrophising, "just wait till you are 40, it just gets better."
HA!
I am fifty in a few weeks. All I can think of is cancer, all the relatives who are now dead the friends who are dead. In my remaining 20 years i cannot even hope to achieve the things the Borg discouraged me from doing when I had a chance.
I know now that the lovely promise of "Paradise" in my life time is a pack of lies, manufactured by a book publishing company. And every day I ache more, forget more, get the "foggy brain".
Smelling the flowers isnt enough. But I dont want to end up like the country lad in Grey's "Elegy in a Country Churchyard."
Moving though it is, I dont want to waste myself "on the desert air."
I am just so plain angry tonite. At myself, for taking others crap. At them for tricking me into eating it.
How do you cope with days like this?
HB