For the past decade, those who know me, my story and the fact that I write have been telling me I need to write a book. First, it was a book of my poetry, then it was a book of my stories, which led to a book of them both; until it led to book about my life and experiences. Being the “I really don’t want or need to be in the limelight” person, I shied away from the idea citing that some things just didn’t need to be shared. Wait, let me correct that…MY PERSONAL things didn’t need to be shared. I’d come to terms with sharing poems and stories, but I hadn’t fully embraced the idea of sharing the things I’d kept tucked safely behind my Colgate smile 😀 and within the abyss of my being. Why? Because it was too personal and who wanted to hear yet another “sob” story anyway? Not that I truly considered my story to be a “sob” story because I’d never cried the blues over it, but it was simply to intimate in detail to share publically.
Fast forward to 2005 when I’d about had enough of anything and everything that had to do with relationships; intimate or familial. I was sick and tired of the bullshyt and drama that came with each and decided to bow out, get some much needed clarity, and then decide it either was even worth my time/attention.
Those who’ve followed my previous blogs, know some of my history during that time as I made note of it in posts; however, there was still much that was left unsaid. From 2005 to date, I’ve gone through some shyt! Good, bad, up, down; whatever it was, I’ve run the gamut of and with it, but the inherent beauty of it all, is that I’m still standing. I endured the crap, the people, the everythings, and somehow along the way actually began to allow what was in the abyss of my being to start to surface. I found myself around women of various ages and even some men that actually gave a damn. They cared to hear about what has happened to me and what I’ve endured to become the woman I am today. Through their encouragement, I shared things with women whom I felt my words would be of help and comfort. I didn’t just volunteer my story and past, but instead used bits and pieces of relevant and empathetic imformation to let them know they’d be okay. I shared what needed to be said to let them know they weren’t alone and someone could identify with their plight.
I thought I’d closed the door on my past and had left it where it needed to be, but how wrong I was. I slowly began to realize that while I may have closed the door, I’d helped to open someone’s mind. I was helping women and shaping them through their experiences. I’ve been very happy about this progression and it’s become a personal campaign of mine to lend myself; where applicable, to those whom I think I can help in some way. God has opened doors in this regard and I look forward to an event in which I’ll be speaking as it’ll be my first public forum where I’m speaking to young women in an effort to inspire and encourage them. I’m secretly a little nervous about it, but very happy at the same time.
Just last Friday while having lunch with my dear friend who is also a pastor, we again spoke of my ability and need to speak out and she once again encouraged me to write my story. I did not meet her with my past reluctance as I think I’ve finally come to a good place with it all and I shared that I have a title swirling in my head for the book. The conversation continued with discussion on us doing some work together in the near future on this same premise and my heart soared…Well, until she called me on some trepidation she noticed when she mentioned me writing my story. She was right as there is some. My mother knows nothing of my trials, hurts, pains and before I can publish the book, I would need to sit her down and prepare her for its content. Although we’ve never had the best of relationships, I would not want her to be blindsided by the content as some of it will paint her in a poor light. What would be said is the truth; however, my mother makes so many things all about her even when it’s not, so I’d need her to be aware that the painting was not to be malicious, but to speak the truth. While she may have seen what she did as doing the best she could with what she had may be her truth; it’s not my reality. I can’t and won’t write my story with rainbows and pretty flowers where it wasn’t. This is where my posts title will really hit home; pun intended. As I said, it’s not my intention to be mean in any way, but the story needs to be shared.
Like forgiveness, this is not about my mother’s feelings, it’s about me. It’s my for and about my healing as a growth period of my life and my ability to move forward. I long since forgiven her as I refused to maintain being an emotional hostage in our relationship and keep letting her slide for her antics and words. Last summer, I called her on some of her bullshyt and there’s been some improvement and I certainly don’t tolerate her redundant rantings as I used to. I do; however, need to share my story with her so I can closed the door in its entirety and open her mind in addition to all the minds I hope to one day touch.
Take some time to close some doors in your life and then work on opening some minds; the world’s in dire need of that. Too many hurt and broken people out there continuing that vicious and ugly cycle.
That is all!