Hello, Ygrec! Sorry to be late responding but it demanded thought, which is something I do slowly so I don’t have to do it again.

Since meeting you I’ve suspected you’re a hyperintelligent being from outer space trying to make your way in human society. I’m glad to learn I wasn’t incorrect.

Though I’m not quite a “senior” by strict reckoning of age, I have outlived my usefulness (and doubt I was ever useful). I am not, however, as overwhelmingly burdened with regret and sadness as you. For that I can thank several things, the first being my meds. Ah, meds! They haven’t restored me to productivity, but they have been entirely effective in making me not care I’m unproductive. They do a fair job of keeping the primordial beneath the surface with only a few eruptions (***Trigger***) now and then.

Additionally, looking back on life, its joys and regrets seem impossibly intertwined. Were I able to reach back and untie them, would all disappear?

We may share some things in common. I, too, made some early, foolish choices. I unwisely chose my parents, two people who were wrong for each other. Then, I totally botched managing my early childhood socialization. I look back on my years 0-7 and shake my head in shame. What was I thinking!? I thoroughly failed to guide my parents, especially my mother, in rearing me properly. Oh, and on top of all that, my timing was off. Somehow I chose to be born too late. My failure to enter history in time to fight and die in the Second World War is a deep source of repressed mental anguish (no, I’m not kidding).

Rather than being from outer space, I see my early failures setting me permanently out-of-phase with people. Constantly being a little off has taken its toll. I know what it’s like to be strange, to have no confidence in a world that demands confidence. All societies have ways of enforcing their norms. In some, people like me are gassed. In other, “gentler” societies, we’re swept to the fringes, put out of the majority’s mind and misery.

“Uh oh. Different. No soup for you! Next!”

Avoiding the fringe means learning to fit in, that is, unlearning myself. But, ‘knowledge in youth is etched in stone.’ I stretched myself on the Procrustean bed of life, and now I’m maimed. I tried. I try no more. Am I awaiting death, or has he already come?

How’s that for a coloratura performance?

Oh, friend Ygrec! I’m a pessimist, and I fear you are correct. You’ll gain a few tools to increase your social functioning, but, as you understand, they will be but prostheses. No amount of therapy can replace your first years of life.

My concern is can you reach your comfortable? If anyone can, you can, helped by the professionals and in spite of them. The trick is discerning when to heed and when to respectfully ‘take things under advisement.’

This thread is full of goodness, but we must cultivate our garden.