lifelines

I have to write a biography for 2nd realm, and it’s been – interesting, and mildy depressing and suprisingly enlightening. We have to write it in 3rd person (to distance ourselves from the subject matter) and – it’s slightly less heartbreaking.

It’s not that I had a BAD childhood – it was just – sad. At least the bits that I can remember – there isn’t much joy there. But isn’t that how memories go so often? The minor wounds stay with you forever, but the minor joys that go along with them are lost in the mists.

It’s one thing that I like about journaling – the fact that most often here, I’m sharing – and saving – the tiny joys in my life – the things that happen on a daily basis that make me smile, and that make me think. I don’t need any help remembering the upsets – those, my brain will hold onto of itself.

So far, I’m only up to 15/16, and I totally skipped the years between 13 and 15 – ever had a book that you LOVED, but had a horrible, sad, miserable episode in the middle that while it ADDED to the book, you only needed to read it once, and the next time you read the book, you skip over that section because you know what happened? Yeah, that’s about how I feel about 13, 14, 15.

I fell asleep last night trying to remember as much as I could about those years – the actual details, and not the details masked by the miasma of depression, puberty, and abuse the way they have hidden in the back of my head. It was interesting, the things I remembered that I had forgotten – esp. how many of my ‘dream’ homes (as in the homes I dream about) are actually bits and pieces of places I’ve lived in before that I’ve forgotten.

I still haven’t worked up the gumption to write about it – I think a large glass(es) of wine might be required to numb me enough to really write about it. I also haven’t continued past highschool – I KNOW I can’t until I fill in that gap. *sigh* I might have to write it as fiction, that might be easier.

I’m also – oddly enough – considering sending it to my mother when I’m done.  I realized that I really don’t know much about my personal history – we don’t talk about the past much – and I assume in her mind as well, the joys from those years have faded into the background, and the bitter regrets might be all thats left.

Last night also, as I was falling asleep, Sade’s ‘Someone Already Broke My Heart’ came on…..which is one of her songs that I’ve been humming and singing for a while – TheBoy and I were making jokes about how all of Sade’s songs are DEPRESSING, and that particular song was my example.

I realized though, last night, as I was thinking about my dark years, that it could be a song of hope – someones already broken my heart, and I know that pain, and I lived through it that time, so I’ll be able to live through it again.

Then, I wandered into the thought that everytime a heart gets broken, it gets bigger. You can’t mend something, without adding a little something extra, even if it’s just glue. And that something extra makes your heart bigger, stronger, upgraded, ready to handle the next thing.

I don’t want to focus on the fact that my hearts been broken – that’s in the past. I want to focus on the fact that I’ve healed. Even if it’s not fully healed, I’ve started healing. I’ve taken things I valued, and I’ve mended my heart. No, it’s not the pretty, simple, smooth heart of a child anymore, but then, ain’t no other part of me still childlike, why should my heart be any different?

And in the fact that I’ve healed – I’ve proven I can heal. I’ve proven that no matter how horrible the heartbreak, I might want to die, but it won’t kill me. I know that if my heart is broken, I’ll mend, and I’ll move on, and I’ll grow.

In turn, that means I don’t have to fear heartbreak. It’ll hurt, yeah, but I’ll be okay, really. And without fear, I can go further – I can push down at least one of the bricks in the walls that segment me, knowing that I don’t NEED it. My hearts not some fragile, unproven thing. She’s (we’ve) been through some pretty rough spots, and we are all the more for it. And the next rough spot – though I might want to die in the midst of it – it’ll make me more, just as the joyful spots that seem to fade away have made me more, as well.

I want to include two poems in my biography as well…..I think they fit the – interesting – times I’ve lived in. I kinda wanna rework both of them – the first one is almost 9 years old, and the second one is 8? 7? something like that – and while I still like them, they don’t catch me the way I want/need them to.

And yeah, dragon stories are still bubbling away on my back brain burner. 9000 words? I can bang that out in a day, but a GOOD 9000 words? *sigh*
I think I’ll start writing, again.