One of the things I started doing after I left Karl was keeping random things to record my new way of life – I wanted to have something to look at as a visual reminder of how far I’ve come.
In an envelope stashed safely in my kitchen I have receipts, spent train tickets, race numbers, the baggage label from my flight to Barcelona etc. Tidbits of paper and other miscellaneous scraps which mean the world to me but probably look like rubbish to anyone else (good job nobody does any tidying at my house.)
I bought a scrapbook which arrived today: a canvas on which I can arrange and annotate. I’ve browsed scrapbooking pinterest boards to
inspire me make me feel inadequate. I have glue and the kid’s craft stuff to raid for decoration and embellishment.
Everything I need is right there… so why am I scared of sticking this stuff down?