I never had much regard for those that locked themselves in a fortress of their own fake world, refusing to face reality. but ah… Didn’t someone say the things you see in other people are the things that bug you most about yourself?
When there’s nothing left in that pot except reality, the fantasy, the pretending, the wishful thinking have boiled away, I feel like going to hospice is giving my consent to die.
This is taking way more courage that I wish it did. Its a decision I make alone. I’m in process.