I’m going through my old journals, starting at 17,  looking for stories, patterns, ideas, inspiration for The Big Speech.  I have found some lovely surprises.  I have reignited lost memories.  What a gift THAT is.  I have laughed a lot.  Mostly at me, not with me.

Lots of anger and melancholy.  Lots.

I am absolutely exhausted from reading this melodramatic girl in her late 20’s.  What a freakin’ MESS she was.  I knew I was angry but I think I was very close to insane, no hyperbole, that’s how it reads and that’s how I acted.  Like a freakin’ nutcase.  Irrational, unfair, very judgemental.  And drunk.  Great combo.  Got a real winner there!

There was not a lot of humility or clarity going on though desperatly needed and deserved.  It’s amazing I didn’t get my ass kicked a dozen times over.  I’m grateful I made it out alive.

I tell ya, part of me wants to keep these notes for a future book and part of me wants to have a big ol’ bonfire. 

It’s not all ugly, she had an inkling of a clue, she cared deeply about people.  It was a battle though.  A big long ugly battle.  When you deliberately put yourself in the most adverse places and situations, shout out “Fire!” and then expect miracles to happen, you’re bound to get beat up at least a little.

But the worst….. is that ugly ego.   And yes, it is UGLY.  That is the hardest for me to read.  How clever and brilliant she thought she was, how much more enlightened (God I hate that word- there is so much condescension fraught in it) she thought she was than everyone else.   What a freakin’ idiot.  I am scrapin’ the bottom of the barrell here for scraps of wisdom.

I’m about half way through.  I think I’m through the worst of it, thank God.  Not sure I could stand much more.  At least I know it gets better because I know how it ends.

Right here.  And now.