Photo by Arièle Bonte on Unsplash

Thanks to my journaling habit, I can see the honest arc from health to illness and back to health, and remind myself that I am not, in fact, mad anymore. I know myself, and thus human nature, better for having been the subject of my own research for many years.

Memoir as a form of expression may truly be batshit, because we know that if we write well — which is to say with a curiosity and awareness almost brutal in their self-exposure — you may revile us for what you’re reading. We know that our families, if the book involves them, almost certainly will. Still, we write.

Photo by Marcus Bengtsson on Unsplash

Memoirist. Poet. SourcePoint practitioner and Rolfer. Living on a small island off the western edge of sanity.

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