The post below about the turning point of the divorce was prompted by a conversation with a dear friend who is going through a moment like this herseld- though she’s been hammered by the asshole she was with.

I have buckets of those memories, and I have built walls to protect myself from them- I feel things powerfully and if I was assaulted by all my emotions at once it would make me insane. Er.

So I have those memories, most of them, locked away, safely, ready to access but never in the foreground. And once in a while someone reminds me of one of them. I take it out of it’s box, sit it on the desk, sniff it, feel it, remember. Sometimes I smile. Actually, in retrospect, I smile most of the time. Smetimes it wrecks me. And then I put them back in the box and put them back away.

When I can stand it, I share them here. And maybe I’ll put them in a book, someday.