At one point I planned to write a memoir, but after finishing a few pieces I put that effort on hold. In part I took a break to work on other projects, and in part I stopped because it felt too depressing to write about my childhood. If I return to memoir work in the future, it will be with an eye toward writing something uplifting. The aim would be a book about my recovery, with the childhood story included mainly to show what’s been overcome. For now, I’m posting a few pieces here for anyone interested. The first, about my mother, links to TheStoryWoman blog. Lynn Henrikson, that blog’s author and the person who inspired me to write a vignette about my mother, was recently kind enough to give my work exposure. The other two pieces are the only other memoir fragments that feel at all completed. Both refer to formative aspects of my history. One is a story of the day I knew I wanted to become an ophthalmologist (which turned out to be an ill-advised career choice, but only because my neck couldn’t tolerate the work, not for lack of passion). The other is the story of my relationship with my stepmother, and is considerably darker in tone.