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  1. Acceptance is the answer. When my Mom died unexpectedly at a youthful (in my family’s terms) 79, at least 15 years prematurely, I knew that, amid several other survival crises at the time, I simply had to accept and let it go. It sounds unloving harsh, but it kept me sane. Under the circumstances. When I was cheated out of a few million in my currency on July 15, leaving us destitute, with me on disability ex-wheelchair, I sulked for two weeks, rebooted myself, put God’s praise on my lips. If I hadn’t decisively dealt with the heartache, I may have ripped out my pulses with a tyre lever by now. Sometimes, hard as it is, one needs to realise that self-preservation depends upon acceptance and moving on.

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