When I think about where I’ve ended up emotionally, I have to wonder what it all means. Does it signal growth– a kind of uber-maturity in realizing and finding peace with the idea that one can ultimately only depend on oneself? A sort of Buddhist wisdom in dropping expectations of others? A natural evolution in which one outgrows the need to routinely discuss one’s experiences with others and learns to depend primarily on one’s own counsel? A developed sense of perspective in which one realizes one’s life experiences are not particularly unique or special and other people are too wrapped up in their own lives to care?
Or is it a numbness–a resignation–after years of disappointment? An inability to trust?
Or is it neutral, nothing more than a smart adaptation to the way society is heading– solo living, lots of mobility, the decline of marriage?
If so, the irony is that the better one adapts, the less likely one is to procreate.