Oh yea, I can be violent. I can be cruel and malicious. My personal fear of writing fiction is--at least in part- of knowing that the dark side of me isn't just's the taking away of every color until there is nothing left to draw light from. I've gone through all of the "questionairre" types of abuse and some they haven't even thought to ask about. I have a vivid and sometimes hyperimaginative foundation from which to spring my anti-fiction loose. But, in my younger years I saw that in almost darkest side. And, I almost wonder if those kinds of fiction that I would write...if they would not show too much of that which I keep buried.

This week...something happened and it gave me a chance to look directly from someone elses perspective. But, that look meant stepping outside of my own world, and I was pissed. Not the best combo.

I was confronted as a mother. I responded with protection, anger and indignation. Then...I spent the next 2 nights looking at other peoples' perspective. I could make a drastic life impact on someone...and it might not end well. Or, I could think outside of my own home. I could remember what it was like when people could still hurt me. This is how I looked through someone elses eyes.

I picked the group over the one. I had very little good advice to offer, but shared what I had. And...some would say that the one lost, but he learned about outside of self and compassion. My surprise was only in myself, not him. He's just amazing...not that he doesn't drive me nuts at times, but I couldn't ask for a child I could relate to better (probably because he's so much like I was) God help him.

So...that's me and that' why I feel okay today.


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