I had a serious case of insomnia the other night, coupled with hormonal dreams from what I believe is pre-menopause setting in.
This is NEVER a good situation for decision making. My sleep deprived brain determined it needed to be writing again and that it would be a brilliant idea to reboot my old autobiographical site, Dear-Me.
As I sit here at school, listening to the redneck two cars down belt out Summer of ’69 with his windows down I am reminded of very good reasons NOT TO reboot Dear-Me. I have more than one abusive narcissist in my past.
Do I really want to break down barriers I’ve spent years erecting and drag all those painful memories back into the forefront of my every day thoughts?
Simply put: Nope.
I’ve worked too hard for my peace to destroy it for the sake of telling a story I’ve told once already. Let it die. Let it gather dust, sitting on a shelf somewhere in the ethos, mouldering away, moth eaten and forgotten.
Those people are “past” for very good reason. I won’t give them my energy or pain again. They aren’t worth it.
So if I do any real writing, it will likely be fiction and any non- fiction will be about gardening. My plants are always lovely.