My mind is blank.
So I am typing the first things that come to my mind.
After an email I received today, I can't stop thinking about some things that happened after we first moved out here to Washington.
It's not anything that I am prepared to share.
Not yet anyway.
But I am coming to terms with the fact that the things that happened are a part of who I am. They are a part of what makes me, me. And while I am not proud of those things, I need to own them. It is just really hard.
It is hard to think about them and relive them. I get panicky thinking about them.
I get panicky thinking about how dangerous things really were.
I get angry for not following my gut instincts.
I hate how memories can make you feel sometimes.
And these leave me feeling helpless, sad, lost and confused.
But they are only memories.
Things from the past that can't do anything to me now.
Not physically anyway. It's the mental shit that could have me looking for some Xanax or Prozac.