Occasionally I get hit over the head with myself.
I will be going along at a relatively merry pace –writing at an acceptable trot, socializing decently well for a hermit with a big, needy heart—when “WHAM!” All my terribly broken bits coldcock me and leave me stunned and brutally ashamed on the floor.
I despise these moments.
I despise talking of these moments…
But I refuse to despise myself for these moments.