I was 55-years-old, and yet my Christian upbringing still had a stranglehold on my sexuality.
His only solace his is 13-year-old son whom he still manages to understand.
Yom Kippur, the Jewish holiday of repentance, had barely been over for 14 hours and I was already fighting with my husband. Over our poached kale and egg salads with a side of chickpeas I notice my firecracker friend is uncharacteristically glum.
Has my Teflon-coated mind not retained a single shred of serenity? When Peter died, the only thing that kept me sane was writing about grief. I recognized that by spewing out my emotions with honesty, I was helping others which meant it was work that made me satisfied.
'Do you think God is punishing me for having sex with a man 20 years younger than me?
' This was the question I asked a close friend when I was about to file for bankruptcy back in 2011.