When my mind got hijacked in an assisted living facility
I don’t worry much about old age. I know it’s a common concern for those of us who have ended up without children, and understandably so. Though my lack of caring has baffled me, I’m clearly burdened with enough in other areas so I’m actually glad for it in a way (while it lasts). I figure it’s either because A) I’ve got so much else on my shoulders I can’t see fear I do have, B) I’m far too busy grieving the future I lost to be bothered with apprehensions over the new one, or C) I trust that as a scrappy bitch I’ll figure it out when I get there and hey, besides a decades long future spent cold, starving and naked in a prison camp for a crime I didn’t commit, what could be worse than grieving the loss of my children anyway?
We all have our aspects of this child free not by choice thing that rattle us more than others – it is neither here nor there, worse nor better – it’s simply what is. And our individual triggers do not detract from the main truth that ALL of this, triggering or not, is both profoundly hard and life altering.
So you can imagine my surprise when one day….. Read more