Time is an amazing phenomenon. When we were young time was an exercise experienced with tremendous agony. Everything seemed to take an eternity, and anything that lasted one second longer than we expected was absolute torture. As we age time speeds up and we long for the ability to squeeze more moments out of every second.
I am blocked. It’s not a true writer’s block, more like I might not be ready to deal with the aftermath kinda block. The first eight years, I was able to romanticize the abandonment I felt as a result of both parents not being in my life. I skipped through the sexual molestation I experiencedContinue reading “Price of Telling Your Story”