Wednesday, December 2, 2009

On my decision to write about my childhood...

The first installment of my Applejack story was recently shared on Mugwump Chronicles. I'm honored that she posted it...wasn't sure how she'd feel about it.

I'm posting an new installation today. I know this bit of the story will be kind of the calm before the storm, but the next one will be difficult. My beginning with horses is so tied to this story I can't separate the two.

I was going to apologize again that this story will get harder before the happy ending I promised, but then there was a comment on Mug's blog by an anonymous poster who said "Thanks for sharing. It helps". And she was right...it does help. She was the one, the first one, who wanted to hear that she wasn't alone, that others battle with these scars everyday. I understand how profound of an effect that can have because I've been there. I hope she got some of that from my story...its an incredibly powerful feeling. The simple fact is that this happens to kids and its okay to talk about. Ignoring it is easy. Pretending that it will go away and "moving on" is easy, but fixing it...that's a whole other thing entirely. It has to be discussed sometimes. It has to be thought about and deliberately healed. Thanks Anon for helping me think about that differently. I'm giving myself permission to write what I need to write and not apologize for it again.

I hope I've got some new readers. I really hope my writing improves through this process and I know sharing this is changing me in a subtle way. Thank you for allowing me to indulge.

4 comments:

Amy said...

Hmm. I read a book called Desert Flower, by a lady whose name I can't remember how to spell, but she bacame a famous American model. As a child in Africa, she suffered from female genital mutilation. I remember reading in her book (I'm paraphrasing) that sharing your story is the first step to not being a victim anymore. It takes the shame away to just let it out. Powerful stuff, and some stories are harder to share than others. I think we all feel like freaks at some point, like something in our life is so horrible and fucked-up that no-one else in the world could ever understand.

I think it's one of the things that makes the internet so powerful. Anonymity can make us braver, and at one point in my life that gave me the strength to share some of the dark bits of my own childhood.

And I guess, the point I'm trying to make... I may never see your face, or you mine, but I just want to say, our experiences might be different, but I understand. No apologies, keep writing- you're good at it.

Fyyahchild said...

That's interesting. One of the most powerful stories I've ever read is Possessing the Secret of Joy by Alice Walker and it's about female circumcision. The images are haunting and I have never been the same since reading it. When you mentioned that author's experience it appealed to me even more because of my earlier reading. Just seemed like a strange but good coincidence...

Thank you. :)

Jayke said...

Here is my opinion on sharing 'stories like these':

Write what you feel you need to write. This is the internet, anyone who is uncomfortable with it, can just hit Escape. After all, it's not about them, it's about you. No need to apologize.

As for me, I will continue to read your stories, the honesty and the sharp emotion you portray in your writing is something that I don't come across every day.

Once again I commend your bravery for sharing these stories.

Becky said...

Don't apologize--- the sad fact is that it happens to more people than you might imagine. It's kind of freeing (<--- wrong word, but it's the closest I can come to describing the feeling) when you realize just how many others are really out there. There's a reason it's called a crime of silence-- it rarely gets reported, and never gets discussed, because it's just too plain humiliating/embarrassing to talk about.

There's a great website called Take Back the Night--- and it's got a section called "Shatter the Silence." It's kind of healing to read through.