20190801.0430

Not long ago, I got started on another project--not one of the putative writing series I've started and discarded over the years, nor yet one of the amusement projects I thought would be good and went nowhere, but one that has already been shown to the public and has attracted a fair bit of attention and almost as much support. It's gratifying to see so much interest in the project, to be sure, and to see as many people ready to contribute to it in one way or another. I'm glad to be part of it, and I'm glad to have seen the early success. I hope to be able to keep that success going for a while, at least, and I have the notion that having happen even a part of what I hope will happen with the project will ensure that it keeps itself going for a long while, yet.
At the same time, though, a lot of the attention given to the project has come from people I knew in my own past--which is not surprising, given who and what I have been and what the project is. Seeing faces that have changed from what I remember them being, but not so much that the people behind those faces can't be recognized, has not been the easiest thing for me--not surprising, given who and what I have been. And I admit to being worried that my involvement with the project will be less welcome when it becomes clear that I am involved in it, and heavily. (Right now, I am one of two spearheading it, and the other is far newer to the project's base than I am.) I have not always been a good person, if I am one now; if I am not, I used to be far worse than I am, as those who knew me then might well be able to attest.
I am likely worrying overly much about it. I am more than likely the only one who remembers much of what I am worried others remember, and I am realizing that I have not done well to hold onto the memories as much as I have. (I've worked for years to develop my ability to remember things, and I used to be better at it than I am anymore. It follows that I remember things that I should let go.) I do not know how to let them go at this point; I've nursed hard feelings for too long, feeding them at my breast with bitter milk, and they have a stronger grip on me now than is even close to comfortable. Enthusiastic as I am about the project, I am pulled by them; I want to move towards it more fully, embrace it, but my feet are held and my body pushed back.
I would like not to worry about whether or not other people will hold me the same as I once was and treat me as I deserved to be treated. I would like not to worry that I still deserve to be treated in such a way, that I have not atoned sufficiently for the things I did wrong when I was younger than I am. I would like to be able to press ahead with the project with only worries about it as itself, rather than with worries about it as a thing I do. And I have been counseled to do so. I do not know the way, though, and I am not sure where it is that I would be able to look, being as I am.