While I was writing my blog post about memoirs as therapy, I googled the topic, hoping to find a relevant article I’d recently read. Instead, the first item in the search results was an interview in the Los Angeles Review of Books with an ex-boyfriend of mine, who, unbeknownst to me, had published his memoir in 2016.
My initial anger was so strong and sudden, I slammed my laptop shut. I opened my laptop and closed the browser tab. Then I did the search again to see if the article was still on the internet. It was.