I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate that it makes me cry to relive bad memories. I hate that it makes me cringe to tell about the stupid mistakes – big and small – that I’ve made. I hate that it brings back feelings of resentment toward certain people; people I have tried so hard to forgive – and certainly forget – are brought back to life in the pages of my book. I hate that it is documented proof of my sinfulness. And, I’m so tired of rereading it and rewriting it. I can’t wait to move on.
I love it. I love it. I love it. It is a major accomplishment to have written my first book - a lifelong dream. I have worked hard on it. It is cathartic to have worked through issues from my past.
I worry about it. A lot. I worry about the reactions of the people I know and love when they read it. I worry about my kids reading it someday. I worry about hurting people with my words. And I worry about how people will judge my life.
But in the end, it is what it is. I have changed the names of the vast majority of people in the book – even my own family members. If people judge me for my decisions, that’s okay. I can live with it. If someone is a true friend, they will stand beside me, despite my imperfections.
I will continue to blog and will begin a new book as soon as I’m finished editing this one.
Thank you for reading.