You're by no means Debbie Downer! And, in a sense, I had "repercussions" like that even before I had this recent realization. I mean, just going into therapy when you're 65 means the game's almost over. And even if just in anticipation, I was very, very down with having so little of life left to me in the event I had a successful therapy. I spent 25 years in therapy previously! 25 Years! With 5 T's! All top-notch! With credentials out the wazoo!

And I do admit I got pretty close to being hospitalized for relatively long periods of time. And I figured out later that the reason nothing had happened was that they must all have concluded (without having told me or mine) that I was just too fragile to be "forced" into some kind of realization of my true state. It's called "supportive" therapy and it brings in big bucks, I'm sure. No one ever gave me the chance to just have my defenses torn away and see if I'd sink or swim.

Most of those statements are simply assumptions on my part. All I know is I got to the age of 65 just as screwed up as I'd been when I was 18. But if I understand you correctly I can honestly say that I've already been through that kind of regret and mourning and feel free right now to move on to a happier future. No question, feeling those feelings will be tough. That poor little baby. But I'll do it. I'll do anything I have to do. Without anesthesia. Whatever it takes.