Did you call me a liar?
Let me ask you this, “Have you lived through my experience?”
“Were you next to me when my memory returned?”
The night hour sweats as another scene gorged its way through my denial. The terror of going to sleep. The body aches that returned as I walked through the valley of my yesterdays.
Oh, anybody beside me knows all too well these things cannot be made up. The scenes that return in broad daylight wreak havoc on a family outing.
A liar I am not. Somedays I wish I was that good at making up bad memories. That way I could stay in denial.
I do not live in denial.
Don’t let anybody call you a liar. They are fools. They are cowards. Those that pass judgment are the very ones that don’t have strength for the journey of the brave.
I don’t need to be part of that sorority.
Tell your story!