Please just call me Ed. I am a 51-year-old man, divorced, and out of shape. Both of those things were not where I thought I would find myself at this point in my life. I am an industrial designer whose trajectory would have, in my early 30s, led me to design cars, but my divorce and following series of steps knocked me off that route.
Now my design is limited to breaking down other, younger people’s furniture designs into convenient boxes for shipping.
I cannot blame anyone but myself for those changes. It was only recently, after 10 years getting up in a tiny apartment in a suburb, that I stopped punishing myself. I didn’t forgive myself, I simply made peace with the lack of things that I was capable of. It was me. I stopped asking myself to choose whether I liked it or not.