November is always hard.
I should start writing advice letters to myself.
Forty-five year old me would tell nineteen year old me on this night twenty-six years ago that this week will always be hard from now on. Though, at least at age forty-five there is some perspective on the fact that two separate men were never good for me. Tonight twenty-six years ago was just another example of that fact.
I feel like in many ways I am psychologically re-parenting the me of my early adulthood. I very rarely feel like I am making progress, though writing here tonight is progress so I am grateful for that.
Two trauma anniversaries within a week should not happen to anyone. I know I am hardly unique in these experiences and that makes me sad. Though I am unique probably in my own personal circles in that way.
I wonder if I would have invited drama into my life had things not gone the way they did in my late teenage years? It’s good that I am starting to wonder things like that now. And that I recognize the urge for drama and can talk to Jared about it fully transparently.
I love my marriage.
I have some decisions to make over the next couple of weeks and it feels tonight like I am at a crossroads within myself regarding at least one of those decisions.
Tonight, though, routine is enough. There will be an engagement session tomorrow with a lovely couple and there are wedding photos to finish editing. And I had my very first (paid!) editing job for someone else yesterday and I could do that full-time if someone would let me. For real.
But for now, it’s bedtime because taking Oliver and Liam to school at 7 AM will come early. We always are in the car in time to listen to “Forgive and Forget.”
Maybe someday soon I will be able to actually write for real like I used to in the old days. Maybe. Tonight isn’t that night, but for tonight at least there is a new blog post.
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