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Your post speaks with simplicity my own inner torment with the fallibility and malleability of my own memories. It is crushing at times to realize that I don't remember some things as they are, but rather, as I can handle remembering them. It works both ways, for the better sometimes, but more often as not for amping up the horrors. It takes courage to accept the ambiguity of your process of memory, and the deep seeded emotions they beckon. Thanks for this, it helps.
A good friend and I were working on a large and complex writing assignment many years back, and he, having been a print journalist for 10 years at that time, said words that I've thought of every time I've been blocked from writing by some inner monologue or another. "Put your butt in the seat and just write." :) He, of course, used more colorful language, but you get the point. Your writings are valuable, get them out there.
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I found this post very arresting. It literally halted my thoughts for a nano-second. I can intellectualize all of what you said, of the cleanliness of truth, that the damage of our respective parents was so great and complete, and that I bear no fault, but inside, at my core, I struggle with the nexus of that truth. Somewhere, somehow, I'm so wounded by the abuse and malignant neglect on all axis that my emotional mind seeks without fail to find reason in in the unreasonable. And it that search for truth, like so many of us, my inner monologue has decided that I must have deserved some part of this. I soldier on. Thanks for this, Punch is now following The Typepad Team
Feb 20, 2011