Liz tells me, “Sharon, do good wherever you can, then you can begin to heal the damages of your past.” She speaks from experience. There is a reason we’re so close; we fractured at the same age. That’s why we look at nature with childlike wonder; we are child-minded. I can see that this visit wasn’t just eye-opening for me. 

I write about walking around, dumping kerosene, and lighting a match over my head. It’s not meant to be an analogy; I sometimes mean to do it. I once considered lighting someone’s lawn on fire in a moment of anger. Why is my brain so irrational? And wasn’t my father’s father known for lighting things on fire when he dissociated? Interesting.

I was told recently by a man who noted our “beautiful similarities” that “we destroy”; my lack of response may have led him to believe that I didn’t hear him, but I did. If the universe placed me in front of that mirror so I could see myself, it must have been for a reason. That’s probably why I’m grateful regardless of how things ended up. 

Do good. I’m trying. I sat out on a rock in the middle of a stream, the other day, with a girl from work. Running water in the forest and unfiltered conversation, the most healing things women can do with one another. As she spoke, I started to look at her emotions, the ones you can’t hide in your tone or your face, and I saw myself. 

This morning, in a heartfelt message, I was told a story about an adultress woman who was set to be stoned. Jesus asked for the first to throw the stone to be someone who had never sinned, but no one stepped forward. She wanted me to know that my faults did not take away my humanity. 

Do good. That begins with me living in honesty. Most importantly, living in honesty with myself.