I have fond memories of my father despite his flaws and the destruction caused. He tried to be a good man, served on the local fire department for years, and was honored at his funeral for service. He toiled in the fields, plowing and planting in spring, and harvesting in the fall to feed nine…
You write, reflect, and write more journal entries. In between, you check the comments for new entries and the email for a contact message, to no avail. In discouragement, you wonder; Is this stuff helping anyone? Am I wasting my time writing? You think of something else, maybe it will work to gain attention. Opening…
Originally shared during the closing season of Abuse Journal, this reflection marks the completion of a ten-year memoir journey and the beginning of The Remnants Journal. As you may know, I started writing on Tumblr to release the anguish of abuse—all the pain buried for years. At first, the memories came in bits and pieces—scattered…