I lived through the experiences with Diane, and saw my side of the story at the time, at least as much of it as I could accept.
But going back through her journals I realize I did not understand the whole story. Reading her words, I see her side. Revisiting those years, those events, and those traumas, I see them now from both sides. It is almost too much to comprehend. I can’t avoid knowing it to tell the story completely, but dwelling in the past is taking ots toll.
“For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.“
