Yeah, remember in an earlier blog entry when I mentioned that I had quickly discovered I couldn't write this manuscript in chronological order? Well, I lied — sort of — it was a premature assessment! 

Turns out that my brain has to organize the events this way in order for me to be able to tell the story (hence the frenzy of pink Post-its). So while I'm super thankful that I allowed myself to just dive in and go with it for a few weeks, throwing myself into scenes and crafting them accordingly as the moments possessed me to feel impassioned to do so, once I had enough scenes written, it started to feel like total chaos and I had no idea how to sort through it all. 

In many ways, I feel like my creative process operates much like a pendulum, swinging wildly from side to side, from creative chaos to organized reason — one side passionate and full of vision, and the other logical and process-oriented.

Now that I have the bones, I've been able to sit with them. Organize them. Meditate on them. Sleep with them. They are arranging themselves in my mind into this living, breathing manuscript — the feet, the hands, the head, the heart, all coming together — becoming one whole being. Becoming me all over again. Transformed.

I am so excited for this journey. I couldn't have possibly imagined the transformative powers of this process — examining the most fragile pieces of my life again after all these years, and now, as an adult, seeing them through mature eyes. I am eternally grateful for giving myself this time to heal, exploring things long buried and seeing them as they are — raw and imperfect, yet connected. I hope that this memoir will be able to touch a few lives, perhaps even helping folks who came from similar circumstances along their paths toward understanding and healing.