About a month ago, I wrote about some difficulties I had with my book.
Today, I decided that I’m not going to change anything in the book unless my daughter, and only my daughter, asks me to.
The only people whose opinions matter are hers and mine. No one else’s.
Because in the end, it’s a record of my life and how I experienced it. If someone in the book doesn’t like what I wrote, then they can write their own story. The truth is the truth, and if I start adjusting the truth to suit someone else, where does it end?
What that person wanted me to change isn’t a fact; it’s a difference of perception.
My daughter has mentioned that I made one factual error, although she hasn’t shared with me what it was. And it wasn’t big enough for her to ask me to take the book down. I told her that I want to write a second edition in 2013, this time including some information about trauma therapy, and she said it was fine for me to fix the error then.
Although I’m writing this blog post about my book, it’s about a lot more than that. It’s about being able to connect with the truth of my life. Some days I can see through the fog of trauma much more clearly than other days.
The goal every day, however, is always the same: To experience my life through the lens of truth, not trauma.