When I was going to my therapist, she gave me a worksheet where I had to write down 5 happy memories from my childhood and 5 bad memories. I stared at that sheet for at least 2 weeks and never was able to fill it out. I kept making up excuses and finally my therapist called me on it. For some reason, my mind just would not let me remember any of it, good or bad. Since then, I have realized that I want to remember, if not for me, then for my daughter.
I have no idea what my grandparents lives were like prior to me. All of them are deceased and I have no way of asking them now that I am old enough to care about it. I don’t want my daughter to someday wake up and not know about the people she loves lives before her. I can’t give her their histories, but at least I can give her a glimpse of mine.
I am going to try to delve into this and I am sure I will bore the hell out of some of you. I will post other things in the process of putting it all in writing, but please don’t feel bad if you just can’t make yourself read my dribble. I completely understand and know that this is more for my sanity and my daughter’s future questions about her momma. Hell, she may not even ever want to know.