A SOBERING TIME.

Staggering towards the tail end of another year, what should I feel?  Pride in the small things achieved?  Sorrow for the big things that I have not?  Acceptance of my condition? Or rsistance? But of course I know the answer to the latter: It has to be acceptance.  I can then confront what the PCA Brain Gremlins may or may not have in store.  I am not alone.  There are others like me, whom I have met and laughed with.  Watching us, a stranger would not guess   our secret.  But there is a curious shame within me; a sense of incompleteness. I feel a repugnance at my own condition, as one’s dignity is chipped away. All of these negative thoughts, I try to banish:  They serve no purpose.  It  is more constructive to regard myself as a kind of laboratory and note each alteration in myself with a detached objectivity, and thus, another stage of life.  And this is life. And we are alive. Life, and how you live it, comes in many guises.

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