CN self injury, miscellaneous
So many things I found while packing last night and many of them being put to rest.
Like a letter my first roommate wrote to my daughter‘s father, imploring him to be in her life and stop partying and grow up. But that we would find father figures for her while she was being raised by women.
Medical records from all kinds of things years ago, including my mental health. In 1992 I sprained my ankle and I don’t think I need to remember that. I would rather forget that I was burning myself in the mid-90s.
Massive amount of court documents from Family Court and child support. Only a paper trail of unrequited hope for justice and support.
Receipts from preschool and packets of information for parents. Goals for my daughter in phy ed. Pressure to strive for so many little goals within the bigger goal of meeting some expectation. It doesn’t matter now if she can jump rope. It never did.
Old jobs, notes, papers, things I thought I would read. Sometimes I take a picture of what I am letting go of. But not last night.
I’ve been working on minimalism for several years and releasing attachments. Writing my book A String of Paper Suns was part of that. I have an overwhelming sense of moving into the future with only the things and information I need to sustain my next vision.