Yelling into the Void Redux

I can't complain; I had a decent breakfast courtesy the company, and that always puts me in a good mood.

I do need to get down to the business of writing my memoir/how to and all the dirt that lead me to this particular moment in time. I spent a lifetime beating and defying odds, but it hasn't been without associated costs. I am reading David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest, and in him I see a kindred spirit I would love to sit down and have a cup of coffee, or glass of diet rite, or whatever he'd drink to share company (alcohol is out, and probably for the better). 

But depression killed him, and the world is a sadder place because he's not in it.

But reading him, really paying attention to what he has to say, reminds me that I, too, have things to say that should be out there in the universe, and I am not being a good steward of my talents by neglecting my responsibilities.

So ironic I say that now. I said that 13 years ago when it came to light someone plagiarized from me. I still remember her on our online forum appropriating my voice and turns of phrase and wondered what that meant until she cast me as a pretender and people believed her.

That anyone believes I am capable of pretending anything is probably the best trick she ever performed. Too bad it's in her rear view mirror.

But there it is in my windshield, like the unfinished business it is. Just like all the rest of the unresolved shit that I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't, so I defer it until another point and time where it's in my way, and then I have to choose whether to divert or roll on over it.

Clearly, I haven't rolled over it yet if it's not in my rearview mirror.

My story, if not written per se and immortalized in bits and bytes in various places in the internet, is written in the hearts and minds of people who knew me. REALLY knew me.

So I have to let the haters go, even if they are of kin to me. They were not kind. I forgive them their unkindness, but I need to let them go.

I'm having a hard time doing so. Because I've been programmed that family is everything, even though it's damn near killed me more times than I care to count.

I desperately want to heal, but the same wounds keep reopening in the same places, and I don't know how to make the bleeding stop.