A picture is worth a thousand words. Yeah, right. A memory picture is worth the Britannica Encyclopedias worth of words. There are some memory pictures that are painfully, vividly, acid-etched into permanence in my brain. Getting rid of them, or at least their continually constant reminders, is difficult.
I understand the concept of moving on. I understand that I am not a perfect creature, and that everyone makes mistakes, has bad things happen to them out of the blue, has people treat them unfairly, has misunderstandings (both ways), has crap, has bad habits, has……ya know? I know that. I try to be forgiving of my former self, who actually has evolved into someone else, someone not the person she was before, when those things, actions, people, emotions happened. I see those images too frequently in my mind’s eye.
I said I was different. In some ways better. In some ways not better. I am realizing that a lot of that joyful innocence and enjoyment of life that I used to have is just GONE. I am, sadly, less in that department. It makes me less than I would like myself to be. My image of myself is not the person I have become.
Even so, I do not want to allow the very vivid images of old hurts, or new ones, for that matter, to rule my thoughts and influence my actions. Yeah, right.