I've never kept a blog, ever. I had a bunch of diaries when I was much younger. I kept them up for years. I honestly don't know if they helped me. I don't truly pay enough attention to things like that.
I have been assessing myself since my first breath. No one ever took enough interest in me to start that assessment except my grandmother who passed when I was 5 years old. But I can remember being 3 years old. And the 2 years I had with her lasted a lifetime in my memory.
So I knew the pain of loss from a very early age. In fact, pain became a common friend to me. He was very comfortable, predictable. I knew him very well. I would wait for him like a woman would wait for a lover.
Pain made me who I am today. And I'm ok with that. I don't mind admitting that I am a woman who's heart has been forged, not matured. It's just a part of me. And I don't lie about things. Lying just waste time.