A friend of mine has decided to write a book about her life. I have actually started this process, several times, and either stopped b/c I was ashamed of my own actions, or afraid of hurting people I care about.
But it wasn't until a conversation about this subject, in which I said this out loud that I realized my reasons. There are a lot of things I have done that I am not proud of. But the lessons I learned from my mistakes, play a very intricate role in who I am. But the idea of sharing some of these things with the world, is terrifying to me. And what do I include, and what do I leave out?

I wrote a daily journal RELIGIOUSLY for YEARS. I stopped about 6 years ago. When a "friend" got nosy. When my life started spiraling out of control. When I stopped caring. When I should have been documenting most, b/c then maybe I could read and figure out what was going through my head that I did some of the things I did. Now I have my lists, at least. I can tell you based on my calendar and daily lists all about that day. But I miss my journal.

It's not pretty. But if my story can help someone,maybe it would be worth it. Where I am today truly is light years from where I was. But the idea of truly coming clean about how much I marred things? That idea horrifies me.

But yet, continue to periodically add to my drafts...