Being compulsively analytical (as I am) makes it only natural to try to figure out this present “writer’s block” that I’m contending with. I’m reasonably sure of the accuracy of my recollections from this point forward, but I’m reticent to proceed. It may be because the darkest moments of my life take place from 1996 to the present and I am simply not eager to revive the pain. Again, that I’m writing this from an 8’ x 8’ cubicle in downtown Las Vegas during my lunch hour foreshadows how the story ends, a humbling and disappointing truth for yours truly.
Mary, Rebecca and I had an incredibly invigorating discussion of all manner of things this past weekend, and it reawakened within me the conviction that for as important as it is to understand the how of things it is profoundly more important to seek the why. And so, as I attempt to muster up the courage to finish what I have started, I am realizing that it will be critical for me, in addition to simply recounting the morbid details, to try as best I can to explain why things went as they did. I have accepted that the primary benefit of this journal is its therapeutic value to the author, and now I pray that it might lead to genuine healing and renewal.
No comments:
Post a Comment