Even though I’ve forgotten this during some painful times, I’ve always had a life worth living.
A person in my therapy groups says that they don’t have a life worth living if they don’t regain the mobility they had when they were younger. Other group members try to convince that person that they do have a life worth living, here and now. I recognize that different people have different ideas of what makes a life worth living.
Do you see a life worth living in my images for today?
.
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When I search for “a life worth living” on YouTube, I find this:
Yesterday, in a therapy group, somebody asked this question:
Using one word, what makes life worth living?
Somebody replied, “Love.” Somebody said, “Learning.” I said, “Everything,” which I thought might be cheating, but people didn’t think so. We noticed that nobody said “Money.”
Then, last night, after many hours of shopping and trekking all over the South Shore of Boston in preparation for my trip to Scotland on Saturday, I discovered that my wallet was missing. Suddenly, life seemed very difficult (although still worth living). Michael suggested we retrace our steps and that I also call the Target Store in Braintree, which was about to close in fifteen minutes. I was almost positive that my wallet was not at Target, but I called anyway.
Here’s the phone conversation:
Me: I was at your store earlier tonight and I’m missing my wallet. I was wondering if anybody turned it in.
Customer Service Representative: What does it look like?
