Oh, how I hate the memories that can still reduce me to tears. I seriously wish that I could amputate those useless thoughts. Yet there they are, taking up rent-free space in my head. I can keep them quiet for fairly long stretches, but that doesn't reduce their power. They still get a seat at the board meeting every time I assess my worth.
Tonight is one of those nights when such a memory has come back full force. It has actually come up several times this week, not really by my choice. Ignoring it has not made it go away, although I have put some serious effort into that. I wish I had the kind of faith that thought even having these memories was happening for a true purpose, but I'm not sure I can stretch quite that far.
I called a friend when the memory came back up. I was sniveling and not making much sense, but I finally got the story out. I asked her, "Wouldn't that make you feel pretty bad about yourself?". She said, "Yes, but you know your truth now". I do? What is my truth? Is it that what other people say about me doesn't make a difference? Or is it that the opinions of me held by my loved ones really do matter and shape my world? Is my truth that I'm good enough, smart enough, and darn it, people like me? Or is it that I have been a wasted effort for many years? Better yet, which one of those ideas is supposed to be my truth?
Let me tell you a story. Maybe you can help me decide what to think about it.
