How much of me belongs to me?

At what point do parts of your life start to belong to other people?

There are many things that I would like to talk about; but discretion, about the present, stops me.

There are many things that I would like to reminisce about; but the thinking that other people who were there, might feel I were trespassing upon their lives, stops me.

A pseudonym and gentle disguising of events allows one to talk about a great deal, particularly the distant past, when the protagonists are no longer with us.

The more recent past is harder to hide and yet it is part of my life and what formed me.

How much of that belongs to me?

How far should I go?

2 thoughts on “How much of me belongs to me?

  1. One of the most honest questions anyone can ask. You have a writer’s heart – fiction is a great way of sharing a flavour of what you have experienced and learnt in life, without stepping beyond the lines you choose to draw. Your imagination will take you to new places too, and writing is a passion that never lets you go ….

  2. It all belongs to you, it is your life and your story to tell or not to tell. After the recent debacle with the child removed from her Roma parents, because she didn’t look enough like them, or perhaps because of underlying bigotry, quite possibly a bit of both, I wrote about my own experience of not looking like my own mother. Thankfully she’s blind(that sounds bad, but you get my gist) and not very technical, so she’s unlikely to come across the blog. This is good because it might be painful for her to read. There’s a whole load of other people who might see it too, who it might also upset, people who had no idea. So should I have written it? Answer that and you will answer your own question.

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