I'm 59 years old (egad), and have lived through not only chronic, debilitating pain and depression (including one suicide attempt), but the first moonwalk, Watergate (lost a lot of sleep over that one in first grade, I can tell ya), the deaths of Elvis, Bon Scott, Kurt Cobain and many others, and, finally the births and deaths of disco, 80s "hair metal" (WOOHOO!) and 90s grunge (BOO). My creative muse has been using his dang ball peen hammer and tap-tap-tapping on the chamber door of my spirit for several months now, begging to slink out of his hole and get some fresh air. Thus, I shall let him out and see what type of damage he can do. Blessings, and glad you're here.