My Own Private PTSD

So as I was writing last night's blog I got the brilliant idea to quote myself from my senior writing project, ...but I'm not bitter: a play in one unspeakable act.  So in order to find the line I was looking for, which I knew was in the first few pages, I had to read some of this tome I had not looked at in about 8 years.  What a mistake.

I began writing the play as a way to reconcile my childhood to my future free of my family binds.  What I did not realize at the time I was writing it was that the pain and frustration and anger that I experienced growing up were becoming embedded within each and every word of the script.  I never imagined that the echoes of that time would still be felt so many years later.

I had to stop myself from reading the unfinished script for fear of losing the composure and balance I have achieved with the past.  In doing so, it makes me question whether it is indeed composure and balance that I have achieved over these many years.  More still, it makes me question whether I will ever be able to finish this work and achieve final closure on the past.