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I haven’t written in weeks, since the beginning of July. For a person like me, who has a constant stream of thoughts running, it may as well be a lifetime. I have imagined new worlds, raised civilizations and destroyed them since last we met. Sometimes the pain gets stuffed down so far that it begins to come up and you gag on it. The beautiful thing about truth is that you can’t suppress it for long; it always comes out in the end.
I alluded a few times to the fact that I’ve been going through some things. I couldn’t talk about it because I wasn’t ready to believe it: I have separated from my husband. Whatever dreams and castles we build in the air when we marry have come crashing down around my feet. Writing is one of the most honest things you can do, it exposes the parts of you that are ugly or painful. When a relationship of that magnitude begins to crumble, you have to redefine yourself. Right now, and for the unforeseeable future, I am not a wife. That comes with a new set of rights and responsibilities.
In order to be vulnerable as a writer you have to be in tune with yourself and know yourself. A month ago I was virtually a stranger to myself. Now I’m back. I have lots to tell you about what that means for me (and those of you in similar situations) while trying to manage this crazy life with ADHD
Thanks for coming back to read,