Tonight I have to read my letters out loud. I have read them over and over in my head. I’m trying to prepare myself for hearing the words I wrote. But I’m sure there is no way around it. I’m sure I will bawl. And maybe that’s a good thing. So why am I nervous about this?
My appointment is at 7:30 p.m., after dinner. The Little Guy will be asleep by the time I get home. If the appointment wipes me out — that happens a lot — I won’t miss out on playing with my tiny diligent walker. But I will miss a night in with my husband. Maybe we can just watch a movie we’ve seen a thousand times and check out… Anyway, I’m not sure why I’m writing about this. But I will add to this post after my appointment, when saying it out loud is in the past.
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Update — I did it.
It was tough to read the letters out loud, to hear my own voice say those things. But it was a good thing. And I’m not crying now. (That stopped at the end of the reading.) Now it is in the past, something I can grow from. Those words are now out there — in a room I won’t see for two more weeks. I was taught as a child that once you say something you can’t take it back. It was a lesson particularly useful when I feel angry. But it this case, it has kept me from speaking words I need to. There is healing in those words. And I need to be able to speak about it to communicate well with my family and friends.
One day at a time.
Separated at Birth 