Thank you, Mr. Martin, in my view you can wine and I will be supportive. There are one in one hundred same as I that have been incredibly blessed with a physical stature resembling a teenager, as I seldom miss a two-mile morning run. I visit Gold's gym daily and often bike ride a 10K into town.
My whining comes from an alcoholic narcissistic witch of a mother, she is long past but her induced trauma remains. Now, if that is not serious enough, my father produced a child with my beloved firstborn sister. To add to my furious bitching, my family hid the lie. Once, a late-night car ride with my firstborn sister's husband when I was thirteen caused a contemptuous hate of my parents for keeping that lie alive, as he knew the truth. The cat was let out of the bag when a five-year monthly stint with an army psych doctor I was attending to for my ravaging PTSD from door gunner work in the Vietnam War brought all the negative memory forward. Now, a twenty-year life in the Asian backwater is a beautiful compensation for a negative past.