"It took me thirty-seven years to meet the love of my life. Thirty-seven years that included two bad marriages, a shedload of choices that would be regrets if I kept a tally of things to regret (I used to), one child, one miscarriage (that I know of), reams of making excuses for whichever bad relationship partner I was with that often began with phrases like, ‘He’s not a bad person, really’, a sense of failure, helplessness, and worthlessness, which sadly sometimes manifested itself as ire, anger, and disrespect for people who would have loved me if I’d let them, and the fatalistic surety that my life was hollow and I was worthy of nothing better. I felt unequal to the world." Read more on the blog.