it was terribly confusing all those years. it was training for not trusting words: i love you. and it was training in paying close attention to my gut. it took me a long time to recognize that it was right about my marriage. now, i don’t waste much time questioning it.
as i started dating, my story became this: “i can’t cook.” i believed it. it was far easier to swallow than this: “i wasn’t good enough for someone, and i’m probably not good enough for you, either.”
we all know the cure: the hair of the dog that bit you. if writing’s the way i make sense of my world, it’s the way i make sense of the world. there’s only one way.