Yesterday, I had the pleasure of talking to the sweetest group of elderly ladies you could ever meet. One of them, after my talk came and shared with me an experience her daughter had had when she was a teenager that as I listened I realised, to my horror, she could of been telling my own childhood story.
I left the ladies feeling a little shaken and very exhausted, the past that we try so very hard to shake, can often catch us unawares.
Last night I had the worst nightmares, so much so that when I woke I was not sure if they were real or not.
I know this will have a residual effect for the next couple of days, making me unsure of myself, paranoid even, quiet and very uncomfortable around people.
My way of dealing with this?
To be so bright and bubbly people think I am hyper and had too much coffee *sigh* if only they knew what was really going on inside of me.
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