When I was a child, I was told I was stubborn. I was in no doubt that this was a negative trait. My stubbornness wasn’t especially inventive. I am the youngest in my family, and generally I’d take a stand in situations where I thought I might embarrass myself. I always lost card games, for instance, so I would simply refuse to play.
Continue reading
Get unlimited digital access, first month free
Try for free
Already a subscriber?
Sign in
I woke on Tuesday at 4am and could hardly breathe. I was sweating (and, post-menopausal that I am, I never sweat) and racked with worry. I grabbed my hair, put my head in my hands, and said out loud, ‘What am I doing? What was I thinking?’