Wednesday, October 02, 2013

Picking at scabs

I've been going through blog archives, looking at stuff that I've written about my dad.

Partly I'm doing it for research purposes. To refresh my memory. But when I start delving into the surreal things we lived through over and over, I just can't  help myself.

I had unpublished some posts because they made him angry. Because it was his story to keep secret, and not mine to tell. His actions were his, and basically, I had no business being affected by them. It certainly wasn't fair of me to be mad at him.

Now I know that it was the crazy talking. That he couldn't really see or feel beyond himself or his own pain. A rational human being would understand that his actions devastated his family and friends.

Anyway, I'm not sure how they'll publish, but if you see some really old posts pop up, that's why.

Also, sorry about a lot of heavy suicide-y posts lately. Tomorrow's his birthday. Things should lighten up after that.

Tra la!


  1. lisa - sorry this is weighing so heavily on your mind recently. i enjoy reading everything you write so no worries if the posts are super intense. if you feel it you need to live it and write it! i'll be thinking of you tomorrow on your dad's bday. xo

  2. Big hugs flying to you, Lisa.

  3. Sometimes the need to pick at scabs till they bleed is stronger than our ability to control or ignore it, yet the scabs heal, sometimes leaving scars, but the scars remind us of who we are. Pick away, Lisa, we'll keep the bandaids handy in case the bleeding starts.

    1. Yes, you are so right. Thank you very much.

  4. hugs, I've enjoyed all you that you've shared for us and some of it hits home in some amazing ways.

  5. I love reading your older stuff, post away! :)

  6. You are a good writer Lisa. You should write about what you feel most for at any given time. love you


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