Memory loss sucks. Memory recovery sucks even more. The stroke had wiped out everything. All the good times; all the bad. My whole identity was gone and what comes back suddenly appears without warning. It appears in blocks, with whole sections that manifests itself in jumbles of images that I am left to sort out.
This is what happened a couple of weeks ago, about the horrors of my childhood. I was upset about what I pieced together. I felt the need to vent about what had happened. I did not consider the ramifications on what effects it would have on my family. I am sorry. Please forgive me.
I pulled down the blogs about the past, about the monster that tried to ruin all our lives. He is dead. In time I suppose I will bury his ghost too. For now he lives with me.