Still, I can accept the two-day hangovers and back pain as a kind of penance. After all, I haven’t been especially careful of or tender towards my creaturely self - I’ve rather taken for granted its sturdiness. I can feel my body beginning to abandon its sense of resolve, and I can hardly even blame it. Not simply in the physical sense, which is what people assume women always mean, although that’s part of it, because women always sort of mean that. The culture has moved on, my peers have settled down, and all that remains are, as Kerouac wrote, "the forlorn rags of growing old." I worry I've missed my chance to build the life I want. I gravitate towards others who are floundering because I feel more connected to them. I also feel isolated because it's hard for me to feel close to people like that, so I have withdrawn from several friendships. I don't mind the abstract idea of starting over - this is America and it's time for my second act - but I also have a lot of envy towards all the people my age (and younger) who already have their shit together, who chose secure partners and stable work, who didn't burn themselves out, who own property.
I was hospitalized for a nervous breakdown.
#Brandy jenson struggle session series#
I had a series of fraught relationships with people who had avoidant attachment styles. I misguidedly got a Ph.D in the humanities. I'm a geriatric millennial and things have not gone as planned.
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