I DID IT! I made of scrapbook of my chldhood stuff. I feel so happy even though the book is filled with hidden sadness and terrible report cards. I laid those ugly grades right out there for the world to see. I wish I had been a perfect child . . . I was lovable (and needing love) in spite of my weaknesses and failures.
There is a lot of commentary in the book. It is NOT a complete picture of me but it's okay. I can be satisfied with this effort.

This is what I put in the beginning of my book . . .

Many years ago my mother gave me a shirt box filled with scraps of my childhood. The box made me feel sad and confused. I couldn’t seem to make sense of the chronology of the objects. While the objects were saved they weren’t preserved or given special care.

It’s nice to have some remnants from my brief childhood even if some of the objects make me feel little insecure. This flotsam reminds me of old hurts, shame, and unrealized hopes. I know the unhappiness behind the smiles. I know how weak I was.
It doesn’t seem like I should have been such a miserable child, but I was. I used silliness to tread through my fear, anger, and disappointment like an alcoholic uses the drink to forget their troubles.

Recently I read Traveling with Pomegranates by Sue Monk Kidd & Anne Kidd Taylor. Sue the daughter of a very capable mother wrote that every woman has to mother herself. Meaning not even our mothers know exactly what we need to nurture our potential or heal our hurts. This book is my attempt to mother myself. In making this book I am learning to love my imperfections, not be afraid to look at old scars, and go slowly so as not to tear open old wounds. And, resentment is evaporating. Crooked bangs look perfect on me.