I was at a neighborhood party the other night, and a number of people congratulated me on signing with a publisher.
I had lunch with a friend from business school whom I hadn’t seen in decades, and he mentioned he was excited for me that the book was coming out. (And that he had no idea of my past, my background, when we were in school together. “You think you know someone,” he said. “You really don’t.”)
I’ve recently had a few friends who are mentioned in the book, whom I’ve recently re-found, read the book. And cry over some of what happened.
It’s getting real.
Now, obviously I wouldn’t have written a memoir if I wasn’t willing – and eager – to tell my story. I still see it as a “memoir of hope,” and my hope is that my story will give hope to others who suffer and struggle. There are so many kids who grew up in the Church who endured so much pain and trauma. So much confusion and challenge. There are so many people throughout the world who have endured so much – who have so many scars and need so much love.
My hope is that, somehow, the story of my journey will give other people hope for their journey. That the beauty and joy I’ve learned to search for – and I’ve found – can inspire others to search for what they need. And to find it.
I know I still have a long path until the book is a book. But it’s really getting real. And that’s really weird. Wonderful and weird.
The paradox of abuse – the desire to shout it from the mountain tops, while at the same time you long to hide it (and yourself) from everyone. The paradox of trauma – you somehow learn to not love yourself as if your very lacking is what caused the trauma to occur. Or perhaps, to somehow take responsibility for the trauma – and in my case to usually take responsibility for everything – so that you feel some semblance of control.
I want to share my story, and shout my joy, from the mountaintop. And I want to crawl inside myself in case someone thinks I’m “too full of myself” because I want to share my story. “It wasn’t that bad,” I hear myself chide myself. “Other people had it much worse.”
It’s like a jail I lock myself in, at times. “I’m messed up because of what happened to me, and I’m messed up because I think what happened to me was bad, when other people had it much worse.” It’s a mind game that trauma can inflict on you, as if to keep its hold on you.
“You’re only as sick as your secrets,” I learned years ago. Another saying that helped save my life. I offered that same thought to one of my re-found friends just the other day. “Tell your secret,” I said. “Let it out. Let it go. Don’t let it eat you up anymore.”
I’m telling my secrets (even though my brother says I remember them incorrectly). I’m telling my story. The book will come out next year, and people know that.
It’s getting real. It’s really weird.
I’d love to hear your thoughts, and please share this post with others if it resonates with you!
Thanks for sharing your current feeling about your memoir being published. I think that memoir is a very good means for the society to collect the data of the person’s experiences in life. Entire collections of the memoirs of all members of the human society must be the best reflection of the universe as we humans experience. The subjective universe as we experience is quite different from the objective universe that physics quantifies and calculates to show its real face. But, the objective universe is nothing but a form of knowledge to us; we cannot really experience it with mathematical exactness. Experience is something alive and life is fundamentally a subjective phenomenon. Without life, the universe is simply an organized form of dust. As alive beings, we have no choice but to understand the subjective side of our universe. Reading others’ memoirs would help such understanding.
I am happy for you, Lisa. Please continue share your stories with us. I will recommend your memoir to my friends who might be interested in.
Thank you Ken. Your thoughts are powerful. And, yes, I hope you share it with everyone and anyone who might want to read it or might benefit from it.
Ohhh lisa. Thanks for being brave and choosing to tell your story. Even if others might feel differently. I applaud you.
Thank you Michelle. That means so much. I do hope my story brings hope and love, and even though I’m fully choosing to do this, it is a little bit weird. 🙂