a note extracted:
On pg 66 she talks abt wanting to end her life. Someone gives her a whiskey and a yellow pad and a pen. And forces her to write 'Thank God'
I can hear a symphony
I can see a waterfall
When I decide to write anything, I get caught up in my pwn insecurity despite the prior accolades. I think, uh, uh, now they will know I am a charltan that I really cannot write and write really well. I am almost undone, then I pull out a new yellow pad and as I approach the clean page, I think of how blessed I am.
The ship of my life may or may not be sailing on calm and amiable seas. The challenging days of my existence may or may not be bright and promising. Stormy or sunny days, glorious or lonely nights. I maintain an attitude of gratitude. If I insist on being pessimistic, there is always tomorrow.
Today I am blessed.