The Story of Me, Part I

A few months ago I was given a difficult assignment.

“Make a collage that represents your life and important relationships in your life.”

Armed with glue sticks, scissors, and oodles of magazines I was challenged to create a scene of me. Others at the retreat went to work immediately seemingly knowing exactly what they were looking for. I debated about what story I’d like to tell. What would represent me?

I wrote a book.

This book isn’t easy to share. It represents the hardest year of my life. Let me paint you a picture. The year: 2006. The drama: I was graduating from my first Master’s degree and, not knowing where I’d get a job, I moved back home with my parents. My two best friends moved out of state around the same time. I worked in an incredibly challenging and stressful job. And I broke up with my long-time boyfriend–the boy I thought I was going to marry.

All within three months.

Oy vey.

At this time I was finishing up my internship at an inpatient psychiatric hospital and I remember commenting to my family that the only stable thing in my life was my time at the psych hospital. Something was wrong.

Part of me thought I was overreacting. No one died. No one was ill. It was a break up, a few relocations, and a rough job. But, for me, 2006 was a year full of darkness. I was literally grieving the death of the future I thought I wanted.

That’s where my story starts.

2 comments / Add your comment below

  1. Thanks, Louise! I think a joy I’ve experienced about writing is being willing to share my story and see where others can relate in unexpected ways.

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