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It’s been a couple of months since my last update. This time I don’t have a particular topic except to tell you how it’s going and what I’m doing. There is a link between the two, but feel free to skip to whatever you find most interesting.

Let’s start with the doings. There’s been a lot of snow here in Denmark, making it hard to get my son to school. We have to take him back and forth every day because of his severe feeding disorder.

While the system offers taxis for working parents, my “work” is caring for him, so I handle the transport to ensure he eats properly. It’s draining in the cold, especially waiting between metro and bus stops. It’s probably my age showing; I’ll be 52 in April.

The past year has been a turning point in how I view my life and body. Last year I was checked for heart problems, a possible tumor (in the ahm nether regions), and skin cancer. Luckily, the heart issues were stress-related (though my cholesterol is high), and there were no tumors.

Also, I don’t have skin cancer yet, but I do have sun damage. I’ve started a treatment where a cream peels off the damaged layer—it looks like a wound and has to heal naturally. It doesn’t hurt much yet, but I’m only a week and a half in.

All this made me realize my body won’t last forever. I’m in that zone where I have to take cardiovascular disease and cancer risks seriously. On top of that, I have a “tennis knee” that flares up from running around with my son.

You become aware that the body can no longer be taken for granted. So, we’re trying to eat healthier, sleep better, and dial down the stress—a challenge with a special needs child, but possible.

The positive side of a stressful 2025 was a deep realization: I’m going to be in this for the rest of my life. Even if our son eventually moves to an institution, we’ll need to monitor him constantly. It’s taken me about five years to accept this. Initially, you think you’ll find a solution to “fix” the autism or regain your old life. I still believe J will improve—I have to—but I’ve accepted he likely won’t live independently.

At the end of last year, I finally burned out my resistance to this burden. I used to fantasize about getting my pre-2017 freedom back—travel, career, time with my wife without planning it like a polar expedition.

Weaning off those “normal life” privileges takes time. I still have days where I don’t want to get out of bed, where it feels like too much. That’s human. But as long as the general acceptance is there, I can deal with it, diminish the stress, and focus on the task God has given us.

It’s not just about changing your mental perspective; it’s about having been angry or despairing enough times to see that if you don’t let go, those emotions will become your baseline for life. Since nothing will fundamentally change, I’m on this raft in stormy seas for good. Even if we reach calmer waters or islands of improvement, we are never going back to the luxury liner.

What does this mean for my writing? I’m hopelessly overworked with “dad tasks” and my mind is cluttered with practical worries. Living in a small, laundry-filled apartment leaves little space or energy for creativity. I can only do a fraction of the writing I want to do. Progress is glacially slow, which is hard to accept, but there it is.

I’m hoping for a relatively calm year, despite looming shadows like my mother-in-law’s Parkinson’s and my parents aging. I want to focus on calm, acceptance, and better habits to fuel what little writing energy I have.

So, what am I doing? It’s both big and small.

First up are the contemporary stories about Carrie and Jonathan. I’m putting them on hold for now as I don’t have much new to say. But … they might pop up once in a while.

Then there’s my “I’m Not Scared” project about Deborah’s past in Paris during the 1968 youth rebellion. It’s (going to be) a linked short story collection, as you know (see where this period fits in here). And yes, you have seen the title somewhere before — let me know if you can guess. 😀

Okay, but I’m currently stuck on a novella about her cousin Sophie at the University of Nanterre. It’s nearly finished, but I keep getting bogged down in historical research, worrying if I got the details of the French university system right haha. Anyway, It’s a crucial story showing the start of their friendship before the riots hit and Deborah falls in love. So: potential!

Next is the collection about Carrie and her father visiting the Falkland Islands in 2016. Her father, Callum, reconnects with the Argentinian veteran who shot him in 1982. They decide to visit the islands to bury the hatchet—not personal animosity, but the ghosts of the past. Callum brings Carrie as a translator, which is difficult given their strained relationship and the fact she has to leave her own special needs son behind. I recently interviewed a British veteran who graciously shared authentic details, which takes more time to get “right”’ in the stories but it’s also one of the things I love about writing, getting to share a little bit of other people’s lives which many times are a lot more interesting and deep than I can imagine .

There are other ideas, but they will remain ideas due to lack of time. Most likely. We will see. I have a tendency still to forget my limitations 🙂

Really, though … acceptance is what it’s all about. Keep learning it. Trite but true. And so very, very fucking difficult.

‘Nuff said.

Anyway … I’d love to hear your experiences—whether as a special needs parent or just someone constrained by life circumstances.

How did you reach acceptance? Or didn’t you? Do you think you are moving towards it? Or do you think you can still change whatever it is that’s in your life that right now weighs it down – heavy? Feel free to email or comment; it might even inspire a future story!

And you know, as long as we can share our stories, no days are truly lost. I firmly believe that.

Take care out there.