Some days I struggle...

At least I can say I have a muse. I want to write because speaking does not convey the feelings I have. I live life as an Elizabeth Bennett. Over analysing my own behaviour and decisions. I have had a cup of wine trying to build-up the liquid courage to write my next life story. I'm not sure why I need this because I do believe this goes out into the world without being read generally but it is for myself and for any future therapist.

It is also a way to share with those I love the things that haunt me the most, but have made me who I am today, without ever having to say it out loud.  Perhaps I missed the point of sharing intimacy. But there it is. My father, while drinking and throwing his hands about, always did call me over dramatic person.