Hi, Englishteacher & Everybody!

When does one accept that depression (or, depression + declining health + aging) has diminished one's capacities and imposed the need to define a new "normal" for oneself? I don't know the answer to this question, but I've struggled with it filled with guilt and self-reproach for over a decade.

I'm not Monty Python's Black Knight who never, ever gives up (go look it up on YouTube; caution - language and comic but gory bloodshed). "Face it, Rohag, you're not what you were and those hopes of becoming the answer to a Trivial Pursuit question are looking pretty sad."

Nevertheless, some sort of happiness and definitely fulfillment can be had in any stage of life...at least that's what I tell myself. Who knows, following an old or new passion regardless of the apparent financial reward could be the way to greatness.

My best to every fellow struggler!