How do you make sense of what you do with your life when more of it is behind you than in front of you, and everything that used to feel certain now feels like it was built on sand?
On the spaghetti monster of midlife.
On the spaghetti monster of midlife.
On the spaghetti monster of midlife.
How do you make sense of what you do with your life when more of it is behind you than in front of you, and everything that used to feel certain now feels like it was built on sand?