When I started this crazy idea of writing for 60 days, I had this idea that if I could make myself think every day for 60 days about what I wanted to do with my spare time, the empty spaces inside of me would be fixed. I would somehow uncover a hidden talent or desire or dream that would make me a million dollars, validate all my efforts these past 43 years, and calm the loud and crazy voices inside me. And it so many ways it has, but on day 56, looking back over the past 55 (ok, that alone makes me feel sort of amazed--maybe they're not all keepers, but I sat my not so little butt down and wrote . . . and followed through) posts, I see a theme going on here and I see how much farther this posting has gone than I thought. I feel like I'm waking up a little bit more each day. I see that under this idea of discovery what I should do in the next step of my life, that I was really trying to figure out why I felt so fractured and confused and lost. I think in a lot of ways,...