Hurting our loved ones, usually the people closest to us, can be the most painful experience known to mankind. Hearing tears through a telephone? Excruciating.
Genuinely sorry for any pain I have caused to my friends and family, it happens “regularly” because I find that I have an itchy trigger finger. That finger has been attached to this fifty something body through many horrific experiences, and many incredibly happy ones. Do I clinically have bipolar? Possibly. No formal diagnosis, but absolutely formal occasions.
I was over the moon that I had help in getting “my story” out there. It was self published because I thought it was so important to tell. Turns out in fact I borrowed from “others,” and had a book full of deflection from what really eats away at my insides. Realizing today, it’s not my story.
Sincere apologies to those who were excited to order a copy – I jumped the shark/gun/real story. I simply did not heed warnings. Familiar? Yes, I have done this before.
It’s not any easier, but is a fact of my existence. It’s a part of who I am, and why I am so passionate about trying to save the next “me too” from becoming a “she too.” Good intentions, poor execution. Apologies. Here on this expansive blog to approximately four followers who might actually read this. Thank you for being there because the IRL pain and apology need a place “to go to.”