Why Memoirs

Why do I have this blog of memories?  I suppose it has to do with the fact that I have lived 3,000 miles from my family of origin for all of my adult life; that my parents were dead by the time I was 22; and that I needed to put some structure around a chaotic childhood:  a childhood that I often dissociated from and therefore made no sense to myself or others.  In my 40's, I worked hard with therapist after therapist to put back together the feelings unfelt and the visions unseen.  I thought it would make me sane.  They told me it would make me whole.  I wanted to be sane and whole for my kids.  I thought I could make their lives less chaotic and smoother like I believed others to be:  the "normal" people I saw everyday at work and school; passed on the street; chatted with in line at the supermarket.  As crazy as I knew their father's childhood to be; it made much more sense than my own.  He at least knew where his pain came from and, after sobriety, why it could never be medicated enough.  His fear made sense...to me anyway.
Now I know we all have pain and we cannot compare one to another...it is too personal.  Anyway, this is the first time I have found joy in writing about my life.  I suppose that says something.