Showing posts with label strength. Show all posts
Showing posts with label strength. Show all posts

Saturday, April 28, 2018

Stick Together

Have I ever mentioned that I'm an introvert who happens to be terrified of public speaking? Have I ever mentioned that I am a writer partly because I just don't know how to go about peopling, especially in public?

On Valentine's night, I did the most terrifying thing I've ever done. I stood up on a stage and told a painful, true story to 400 strangers. After the show I couldn't even curl into a ball and will myself invisible. I had to gasp PEOPLE IN PUBLIC. I expected to just stand around awkwardly for an hour, but I was amazed and humbled that so many people took the time to talk to me. To thank me for sharing my story. To tell me how brave and strong I am. I had people hug me and tell me I helped them see that it's okay to cut toxic or abusive people from their lives, too. Of all the things I didn't expect to happen after the show, perhaps the biggest surprise was simply that my story resonated with people and I helped them.

I'm proud of myself. I pushed myself so far out of my comfort zone, climbing a mountain without shoes seemed like a safer idea. I thought about giving up a thousand times. I worried myself so sick, I thought I was going to vomit at least twice a day the week before the performance. But the thing about me is I'm stubborn as hell. Another thing about me is that I rarely allow myself to give up, even when I'm terrified.

Please be warned, the story I share features drugs and abuse. It wasn't an easy story to share, and it's not an easy story to watch. So please, self-care first. Don't watch if you think you might be triggered by it.


Monday, May 22, 2017

Toothy Writing

What you fear, if you turn toward it, will give your writing teeth--Natalie Goldberg

This is one of my favorite writing quotes. I love it so much, it's on my business cards. It comes to me when my inner gremlin tells me I suck, or that I'm a huge fake. It comforts me when I feel like my fingers can't type the words my brain needs to say. That quote reminds me that as long as I'm willing to tell the stories I need to tell, I have power. It runs through my mind when I press my right hand into my only tattoo for strength and comfort. What you fear, if you turn toward it, will give your writing teeth. It's become my mantra and it pulls me through the scary times.


I'm writing something that scares the hell out of me right now. Okay, I'm actually writing two things that scare the hell out of me right now, but this one thing--it's really scary, yet I'm completely in love with it. There are times I want to stop working on it because I'm not exactly convinced I'm the right person to tell this story. Who am I to be able to do it justice? Hell, since I'm a pantser, I don't even know what's going to happen one page to the next. Surely, this story is meant for another storyteller, not me.

About a year ago, my family and I took a trip to Universal Studios Orlando. At the time, this story hadn't revealed itself to me. It wasn't even a blip on my story radar. The Wizarding World of Harry Potter knocked our socks off, but the highlight of the trip was Ollivander's. For those who may not know, Ollivander's is the wand shop in Harry Potter. It's not just an ordinary wand shop. No, in this wand shop, the wand chooses the wizard. Well, that's not just book magic, my friends. Against the odds, the wand actually chose my son! We knew someone would get chosen, but since my kid was thirteen, and there were younger kids there, we thought for sure one of the littles would get lucky. When Ollivander looked right at my kid and called him up to the counter, he looked at me and his dad, shocked that he'd been picked. He pointed to his chest and whispered "Me?" Ollivander assured him he was the chosen one and it was time for him to come up and fulfill his destiny by opening himself up to just the right wand.


I feel like my son did that day: Shocked. Surprised. Incredulous. Flattered. Nervous. Excited. But add scared shitless to my list. I didn't pick this story any more than my son picked that wand. The story picked me. Me, with all my baggage. Me with my worries and fears. Out of everyone in the entire world, this story picked me. I'm the only one who can write this one, so I have no right to turn away from it, even though it scares me.

What you fear, if you turn toward it, will give your writing teeth.

I sure as hell hope so. I hope I have the strength and the courage to tell this story without flinching, dumbing it down, or turning away. I hope I have the strength to tell this story with the grace and tenderness it deserves. Above all, I hope that because I refuse to turn from it, it will sink its sharp teeth into your soul.

How do you handle writing the things that scare you?