I'm cleaning through my stuff at Dad's again. I just finished in my bathroom. I again have alot of the old feelings I've had as I cleaned through stuff in the past. Empty. Lonely. Sad. Hurting.
 The memories are reminding me of the past. And I have enough recovery now to look at the past with much more realism than I have in the past (no pun intended, but god [as I understand whomever it is, of course] knows it wouldn't hurt).
 The memories of the divorce: how I didn't cause it, but I let myself believe it because of how dysfunctional my family dynamics were to begin with, and the insanity just grew exponentially from there.
 The memories of being "that freaky sick kid," as I found waaaaaay in the back of the cabinet all of the meds I took for all of the who knows how many medcial conditions, not to mention ER visits, because I was growing up with epilepsy, asthma, ADD. I know everyone knows "a kid like that," and I WAS "that kid."
 Sad. Sad is the word.
 And, I forgot to say till just now, I got an email from Mom. 
 "I'm so thankful you're my daughter, and I want you to know I love you." 
 Hit puree on your feelings right there! *rolls eyes
 It's a good time to apply RTX's slogan: "Feelings are not facts." The facts of my growing up years, like for a lot of us, are sad. That doesn't mean that I have to obsess over them. That doesn't make them happy or good either.
 It means, well, they're memories.
 And I just wanted to share, with y'all, that I'm having them. And I'm glad that I can share them with y'all. Thanks.