You never know when you are going to stumble across something that brings it all back, that makes you say, “Exactly.”
A Darker Place, by Laurie R. King…a suspense/thriller novel about cults isn’t the sort of book I expected to pick at barely scabbed over wounds but reading these two paragraphs made me have to put the book down for awhile.
…not the least of which was Anne’s oft-stated preference not to inquire too closely into the darker places of her mind, a firm conviction that it was at times better to let sleeping Minotaurs lie rather than continually offering up virginal portions of herself to be devoured by them.
And below the anger and the confusion and the craziness, underlying it all, she could feel the disturbing roil of her old, tired built, as worn and dull as a river rock from all the long years of handling. She was asking it now to support and energize yet another hard slog through the most distressing times of her past, a past that she thought she had earned the right not to forget, but perhaps not to dwell on quite so much. The dreams she had were no longer utterly devastating, the flashbacks she experienced no longer galvanizing; the memories had become, at long last, a part of the vocabulary of her inner life.
Mine have yet to lose all of their rough edges in the time current, even with the constant, daily handling. Dreams start to lose their power to devastate, to ruin an entire night and day. Flashbacks rarely necessitate rapidly seeking out a safe place to pull the car over. A turn of phrase in a work of pop fiction, however, prods at the Minotaur even if it doesn’t completely awaken it. It’s a thin veneer indeed that we form over these memories to try to protect. The cracks show through when you least expect it.