A friend dropped off 2 boxes of stuff from my ex's house a few weeks ago. The boxes have been languishing in my friend's garage for a couple of years. I was so bent about how the transfer of stuff went down that I said Absolutely not, fuck all y'all, don't want it, and forgot about the boxes for awhile.
Then I realized my friend was trying to do me a favor and asked if they'd bring the boxes before our 4th of July hangout. I took some time to go through them the following day and found:
--some F-you crap from the x
--a bunch of stuff from my Mom's final days at the hospital, sympathy cards, and her photo albums
--a pivotal journal from Bible college, my days doing a radio internship at KGMI, my mother's first serious illness, and some horrific fights with my father
So, deep meaningful stuff, some of which I re-boxed and put away for viewing some other time
The journal though, this is GOLD. Documentation of me during some incredibly hard and trying times, knowing that what I wrote was for future me. I feel an obligation to use this material, to remember and reflect, to transform my pain and loneliness into something beautiful.
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