I’ve begun several journals or short stories and even a book about how I ended up where I am. A cousin told me that she and I were miracles of survival because our mothers were sisters and they shared dysfunctions. I don’t know why or how the two of them became what they were but I do know the results of their lives. Their children.
My cousin and I managed to overcome our histories and somehow became productive human beings. There are differences, of course. My cousin had siblings whom she loved and who loved her and I had none.
I entitled this entry as “Names” because I’ve had a few even though I’ve only been married once. My birth name, my illegal AKA forced upon me by the person who gave birth to me and her husband, my married name and finally, my birth name again.
Currently, I am 73 years old and I have seen and experienced a lot and all the time trying to make others happy. I suffer from PTSD and have had therapy from psychologists, psychiatrists, and counselors. The most help I ever received were from counselors who did not have PHd’s but who were registered as counselors. I try not to judge the first two but it’s difficult. It just seems to me that they are more concerned with money than with helping others.
Hopefully, this venue will do what my attempts at writing have not. Give me peace.
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