Today I start writing (again, for maybe the 10th time). For no one but myself and my kids. My husband too, if he wants to read it. But mostly this is the story and stories of my life. I want to leave them with stories, in case the worst should happen. Or in case I lose my memory at some point and want to remember things I can't.
Those are the kind of awful things I think of sometimes. I really don't dwell on the bad much, but when I have an odd moment of silence my brain "goes there" and sometimes quickly and harshly. And the feelings are terribly real to me. I'm dying. Or someone I love is dying. And suddenly I'm crushed. Barely breathing and crying as if I'm at a funeral. I'm thankful for the internet because I know that I'm not the only one who does this. But still it feels like such an odd thing. And so specific to me, even though it's not.
But mostly I'm about love and happiness. And that's what I hope this journal shows. I spend a lot of time trying to keep people's spirits up. There's already too much bad in this world. I just don't want to succumb to it. I want life to be full of happy moments with the bad ones few and far between, as if I could control such a thing.
That's it for now. I have to get going this morning because it's Vacation Bible School week at my old church and I've got to get the kids ready to go. It's the last day, and I'm sad I won't see some of these folks for another year. But I'm tired and worn out and ready to have a few days of rest afterwards.
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