All this started several months ago when I added the documentary Searching for Angela Shelton to my Netflix watch instantly queue. I work 3p-11p, my schedule sucks because I'm not ready to go to bed when I get home and the rest of the world is. So during my shift I often look for a movie to watch when I get home and somehow unintentionally I must have added this one (and obviously watched it). To say it "changed my life" or was "fate" sounds pretty melodramatic especially for me; however, I guess it kinda did or was.
It took me several days to watch the entire film, the best analogy I can give is that it was like hitting a brick wall. My first thought was: "I'm doing great now, I graduated college, have a stable job, bought my own condo, have great friends, and am basically a stable and functional person. So why bring this shit up now? It's over!" This thought still continuously crosses my mind on a daily basis. However, when being completely honest with myself, I know things are not all OK. Sure, I have great friends and a best friend who knows everything about my past and would do ANYTHING for me in an instant. The thing is that none of my close friends have been through what I have (which is a good thing, I wouldn't wish this on anyone); therefore, they can't relate to me. In fact, I haven't even talked to my best friend about this stuff in over six years because it upsets her so much. I'm not saying that she makes it about herself or anything but I can imagine it's hard to hear this stuff. You know what I mean?...
For the first time in my life I have connected with people who understand what I’ve been through. Being raised under the “suffer in silence” and “get over it and move on” philosophies, talking about what I’ve been through is a work in process. However, I know it’s a move in the right direction. My new friends totally rock. I really appreciate you all and Squish!
-Anonymous
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