She felt she had to write. There was a book in her that was supposed to be written, she just knew she was supposed to be putting her time into it, doing something useful rather than just going from endless day to endless day, never accomplishing much and sleeping fitfully every night. She began searching her mind, what in the wide world would she choose to write about? I mean, what? She often thought that maybe she should write about her late husband, the former CEO who had many respected accomplishments. She had this inkling though, that the book - the writing - should be about her. And what an awful, scary thought. Did she want to go back and revisit memories, try to put into some kind of sense the last twenty-five years of her life? Go back perhaps to recapture feelings of her childhood? No, no, emphatically NO! Neither of those. Uhgh! Why in god's name would she want to dig up old bones, visit the graveyard of buried hurts, failures and now tarnished victories? My, how she had to work just to keep them buried so they wouldn't be able to bring her down any lower than she already felt. And believe me she felt low. Her years of taking antidepressants probably clouded her reality, for sure, but she couldn't stop taking them and she hated that she had to.
No, she definitely didn't want to take a bad trip down memory lane unless, well, unless she could perhaps in doing just a little bit of it, see there was a very good purpose for it. She'd just have to think on that for a while and knowing herself, with the right motivation and understanding of purpose, she might possibly be willing to give it a try. It still made her really nervous, just the thought of it. Yes, there could be A LOT to delve into. Nevermind the trying to make any sense of it all. She would definately have to think hard about going down that long and treacherous road, long and hard. Okay, so there were some amazing things along the way, some sweet accomplishments, some enlightenment and joys too, she'd have to admit. People had often said of her that she was a born leader, a gifted teacher and a smart and beautiful woman. She'd many times had people tell her that she'd inspired them, that they'd learned from her, some over the years even told her that she'd changed their lives by something she'd done for them or by just knowing her. She then asked herself, how come the first overwhelming thoughts I have about writing are that it involves so much painful stuff? What about all the good stuff along the way? I mean, there could be a good amount of happiness delving into that and spending time recounting it. Some pain, some happiness..hmmm.. With that, she closed her laptop and put it all on a shelf in her mind to stay for awhile, and she moved on to other things.
