This blogging thing. Is gonna cure me or kill me. I'm not sure which way it'll go.
As I read my chosen ones, and those they've suggested, I sometimes dredge up an old memory.
I realize I've shelved a lot of memories. I just need to remember why. I know some of the whys.
The very shy little girl... that didn't have friends because she was too afraid to talk to anyone.
The naive teenager... that didn't know what everyone else was talking about.
The young woman... who let herself finally go and didn't like what she'd become.
The single mother... who realized she wasn't the nurturing mommy type.
The wife... who even though she knew all the signs married the abusive man.
The adult child of an alcoholic... that can't mourn that parent properly.
There are many memories for each of those people. They are not the person I am now. Or, are they?
Is that why those memories are shelved? Each of those people has a story. Perhaps, as I get reaquainted with them...I'll introduce them. In the meantime, there's only me.