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Forgive Yourself for the Years. Then Stop Counting Them.
The decade I wasted is a fact. The arithmetic I do about it every morning is a choice, and it’s the most expensive habit I had left. Here’s how I put it down.
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Diagnosed at Forty-Five: Grieving the Years and Then Getting On With It
When the pieces finally fit, the first feeling isn’t relief. It’s a strange grief for the person who spent decades thinking they were lazy. Both feelings are allowed. Only one of them is a place to live.