Trying to make sense of it all....
I've been doing some writing exercises to try and jump-start my brain when it comes to writing this book. I would love to forget about writing my memoir and about the things that have happened to me. Believe me! The problem is that God has placed this book inside of me as a way of recycling all of the disastrous garbage that happened into something helpful and productive. And when God places something inside of you, it's not that easy to ignore it and pretend it doesn't exist. Because if it were easy? I'd have figured it out. I've been farting around and trying to ignore this thing for years. I talk casually about it, maybe do a little bit of writing about it, decide I'm going to write fiction instead... anything that I can to avoid getting to the tough stuff. Because it is tough stuff.
Lately God has been gnawing at my heart more and more about it. How long are you going to wait? It is impossible for you to get to the next stage of where you are supposed to be and what I will have you doing if you do not do this. This is the baby that must be born before you can move on to the next step. It is necessary, I will equip you, what are you so afraid of? It's time. I bless obedience.
You know, the problem is that I don't know what to do with all of this. I mean, I do. In theory. But, I just don't want it to come off as some self-indulgent poor-me story. That's not the intention. The intention is to immerse people in the story, let them feel the depths of it, and then bring them to the other side where there is victory and beauty for ashes. Teach them about shame and worthlessness, the effects of abuse and then how God can and does handle all of that if you let Him. Okay, sounds easy enough. Yeah, you think so? I don't. I get stuck in the "but I'm still such a mess!" syndrome, failing to see just how far I've come. And the fear of someone saying I'm a fraud because they know of some sin that I've committed in my past and how dare I sound like I've got my crap together. Fears of how do I tell the history of what is true in my life and not offend some people? How do I treat true situations delicately so as not to hurt people I love who may have played a role?
Ugh. That's the word I'm best at writing lately. That's the one that rolls off the fingers so easily. Ugh.
So, like I was saying, I've been doing some writing exercises to help loosen up my brain because truth is that I pretty much freeze when it comes to writing about those times and events. I have short little versions of events floating around out there in the universe and when it comes to expounding on them beyond that, I struggle. With these exercises, I've found that it's much easier for me to work on a subject when it's an organized thought pattern or where can merely free-associate words that fit a given subject. I can pick the words, feelings, etc and place them in neat little lists.
Where I have discovered I have a major block is when it comes to sense memory. You know... touch, taste, smell, sight, sound. A smell that brings back a certain memory, a sound that gives you deja vu. I had no idea I struggled in this area. I always thought that was the more natural path for me as I'm usually much more emotional and intuitive. But no. When it came to the other exercises, stuff poured out of me. When it came to the sense memory exercises? NADA. No bueno. I sat there and stared at the paper. It was total fight or flight syndrome. I got antsy, wanted to put the book away, get up and clean the bathroom... whatever I could to avoid delving into this.
What I've come to believe is that I have dissected, analyzed and chopped up that series of events so finely in my mind that I have been able to organize them into little bite-sized pieces that my brain can accept and somewhat explain and therefore handle. But that's only because I have processed and can control those little pieces. Everything else has been quarantined and locked away in a place that I have trouble getting to. Sense memory is scary because it's uncontrollable. You smell something and it takes you back without asking your permission or warning you. Yeah, that's not okay with me. That's one of the main reasons that I faithfully take ambien every night. Because sleep is where I'm most vulnerable. I have very lucid dreams full of sights, sounds, smells, etc. Even if I sleep soundly, I know that I will dream and that's not okay with me. Ambien stops the dreams. I mean, I still dream, but I remember very little of it. I have worked diligently to block out the senses because the senses are what make it real. In the senses lies the danger zone. That's what makes you relive it. Sometimes I can't escape it. Like the sound of a knock on the front door... that's enough to send me into a silent panic. I don't know if there's a sound I hate worse in the world. It terrifies me. It means someone is trying to get in to me and possibly hurt me. I've gotten slightly better at dealing with this... recently I opened the door to a little boy selling something for school. That was progress. Normally, if I don't know you or expect you, that door's not getting opened, I don't care who you are.
So, I never saw this coming, but it looks like this is the next frontier. Trying to unlock all of the things that I've worked so hard to lock up. I'm even toying with the idea of doing a 30-day ambien fast just to see how it goes. Okay, I got palpitations just thinking about that. But I've come far enough in other areas, that God is telling me I'm now ready for this part. Ugh.
lurve you, xoxo v.