People of the Lie
It’s days like these that I miss having my therapist. Oh fuck. Look at that. That’s got to be a record. One sentence in and I’m already in tears. The good that lady did for me. Holy shit. The kids have a dad. I’m alive. And beyond that, she instilled in me an actual belief that I’m a great writer. She started by having me write my story. The toxic Christianity. The home life. All of it. and it felt great to express that. So, I kept writing. And most weeks, I’d give her whatever I’d written that week. And there’s something supernatural about the way I can be a complete fucking mess, but the written word unfucks me. It has been life changing. We all have bull shit to deal with. And come up with different ways to cope. Writing has become my out. And for me, I think the hardest thing to write my way through/make sense of and/or get over is when other people’s chaos affects me. So, at some point my therapist gave me a book to read on the subject. “People of the Lie” by M Scott Pec