I've been overwhelmed and withdrawn. When Ms. Imp suggested just writing anything I tried working with images of a princess and a bog.. typing however my mind wandered or mangled.
It didn't start out to be anything, but as I wrote thoughts of what is sacrificed to maintain a life. I still have tremendous trouble thinking of the family splintered, no longer knowing this man who had been the center of my life. But life in a bog forces growth even through wallowing.
At what price do you trade security for living. How does a caged creature learn freedom? I helped make the cage I lived in often crouching in insecurity and fear. Now I get to walk without its boundaries. I just have to learn that me doing it, taking responsibility as my own, on my own is a good thing.
