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  • Where I’m at always seems to sit in the shadow of where I’ve been. My past has been the unwelcome guest who refuses to take my polite attempts at showing him the door. It’s unclear if he is socially clumsy and unaware or just dense and unable to take a hint. For many years, journaling freed me by providing context to my understanding of the seemingly unrelated events that stippled my memory. Now, the past is quick sand. I’m stuck, sinking slowly into what is no longer there. I’ve been through therapy, acceptance and denial but I haven’t addressed my past directly. The time has come to say what I mean, mean what I say and not say it mean.

    My Dear Past, thank you. When my journey seemed nothing more than a carnival tour of shattered images and distorted mirrors, you shined a light on the talents and the skills hiding deep inside me. When all I heard was silence, you showed me the sweet spot where the divine lives wrapped in hope. I see now that I can do so many things right because I did so many things wrong.
    My Dear Past, I see now that I’m the one who’s held you as a hostage, an old, gray ghost of gloom and doom when, in truth, you have always been a wise guide, bold and beautiful who made me strong enough to send roots down deep into the earth, brave enough to bloom where I’m planted and confident enough to explore the hard to reach places. As I move on, I will look for your light and motivation and be grateful for the time we spend together.

    Secretary of Change: Inchoate Fear Avoidment and Job Loss 2009 Wonderlane used under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike license:
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