Recently, I found an old journal entry that pinpointed a time in which my confidence as a writer, already fragile due to childhood abuse, was completely submerged into an abyss of hopelessness and self-doubt; it reads as follows:
“…When you said we could never go anywhere with my writing, I died inside. You became the murderer of my true self, and I allowed you to strangle the life out of me, obliterating the essence of who I am. I parted with myself, becoming what everyone expected of me and allowing the odd poem or story to come out only to be filed away in darkness while I lived a shallow existence. I was much less than I could have been.
A true artist knows the length that their craft can travel and mine was meant to go far. In my soul I knew this but my mind was racked with fear and doubt. The one person who could have distinguished those fears is the one who magnified them. It became a long journey, but at length I climbed out from under the blankets that had smothered me, then forced open the door of the tomb I had been pushed into.”
It had been some time since I had read that journal entry, and I sat back in wonder of what all had passed since I wrote it. The last line in particular is important to note. The reason I used the word “forced” when speaking of opening the door to my tomb, instead of “pushed”, is because it took a great amount of strength, effort, and the process of several years to go forward and pull myself out of the darkness I was in.
The Curse of the Creative Soul
I am a deeply spiritual person. I understand and believe that there is a constant struggle between good and evil; there is an evil one who has an army and stands ready to attempt to destroy every good thing that God puts forth. People who were born with talents in the creative arts are particularly susceptible to being attacked—why? Because the adversary does not want beautiful art that inspires, music that uplifts, poetry that brings peace, or books that take us away to distant lands and fairy tales, offering a reprieve from the stresses of the world. If they would attempt the journey, victims of abuse could go back to the time of their trauma and recognize that one of the first things to be negatively affected were their talents.
I was nine years old, and there was a neighbor who lived two houses down from us who abused me in the worst way a little girl can be abused. I excelled in singing at the time, and it didn’t bother me to be in front of a crowd; however, after the abuse I shut down in two major areas; I refused to sing in front of anyone again, except high school chorus, and I refused to do things publicly, avoiding crowds at all costs. I began to have the thoughts running through my head that I was different now; stupid, ugly, and that I would get laughed at. Oddly enough, my writing accelerated at this time; it’s what I turned to in order to escape. Music also became my life, both writing and listening—but all was done within the confines of the room I had shut myself up in, doing my best to avoid society. I neither shared or promoted any of my work because I had no confidence in it, yet the drive to do it was there. In those days I had no idea that there was counseling for abuse, but it would have benefitted me little for I was terrified to tell anyone what had happened. I did the best that I could and muddled my way through the chaotic years of middle and high school, a feat that proved arduous due to my father, who moved us from one state to another nearly every six to months to a year because he could not settle. Making friends was not an easy task.
Every day began to feel as if it were on
It was during this period that I wrote the journal entry. I knew I had to do something or I would become yet another statistic of millions whose voices are never heard when it comes to writing, music, or any talent that goes unexpressed. There is a reason that kind of passion is so overwhelming; it is an energy that has a purpose, aching to get out, an energy with movement that can find no completion or resolve without the assistance of the mind and body that is its host. When that energy is suppressed it will expand and move in another direction, for it has to be processed in some manner. If it can’t find the positive direction it was meant for, it will express itself in a negative way. It literally feels as though it is dying inside of you in an attempt to get out; you are mindful of its pain and acutely aware as it screams in an attempt to be heard. It becomes a weight that can make you lethargic in many ways, for there is the talent and need to express it yet lack of support and self-doubt makes getting your work noticed look hopeless. I felt as if I was cursed because the need to write was as strong as the need to breathe, eat, and sleep; however, I was convinced that my writing was not good enough to put out there.
It suddenly dawned on me why some of the classic writers and artists who went undiscovered during their lifetime, were often depressed. They needed their work to be appreciated, they needed to know it made a difference; however, they were bound by the limitations of the society of their time, the lack of support from those around them, or the lack of means it took to get their work noticed. I could feel myself sinking from the weight of all that was trying to get out; poetry, novels, songs—I knew I was in the wrong place and I could not bear it anymore. It seemed like a constant battle to break free from the restraints I felt held me down. Regardless of opposition in the home, I enrolled in a university, graduating at the age of 44 with a BS in English and writing. Shortly thereafter I became a single mom, walking away from everything but my children just so I could be free. I literally started over.
Transforming the Curse into a Blessing.
Why did I wait 24 years to remove myself from an emotionally unhealthy environment? Because I was raised in a time where once you get married, you stay married no matter what. Somewhere down the road I knew there was something wrong with that. Yes, you try your best to make it work; you try for a long time to be sure, but at some point when it is obvious that it is an unhealthy relationship that is doing you harm and half of the parties involved doesn’t think there is a problem that needs fixing, something different needs to happen.
In 2000, six years before my divorce, something happened that literally caused a shift in how I saw myself. I was asked to do a presentation which included how I healed from the abuse I suffered as a child. This was terrifying for me. Except for high school choir, I never got up in front of people. I remember that when we were assigned oral reports in school, I always took a zero and refused to do it. But as I mentioned, I am a spiritual person and knew that this was something I was being led to do to help others. I couldn’t say no.
When I stood up to do the presentation, my knees began to shake so I locked them in place, took a breath, and proceeded to speak before hundreds of people. Afterward, I was approached by many who expressed to me how much it helped them. In later presentations, I would include performing songs with my son; songs we had written together. It is something he had to talk me into doing, for I had no self-confidence whatsoever when it came to singing in front of people. But after performing, people would always come up and tell me how beautiful it was and that I should consider making a CD. Even though it was hard for me to believe about myself, there were many people showing me support for the talents I had. This led me to start writing poetry and books again. As I started to do so, I felt the weight of all of that energy become light as a feather because I was expressing it and saw that it was being enjoyed by others. The more I put my gifts and talents out there, the more I felt the blessings of using those gifts pour in.
With the technology we have today, getting one’s creative voice heard is much easier, but there must be a shift in the thought process of the creative mind which has been restrained by the affects of trauma and abuse. When you hear that voice in your head saying you are not good enough, remember the one conveying it to you is doing everything he can to make you fail. If you have a talent and a passion to see it realized, you must do everything within your power to express it. It starts with believing in yourself then moving forward no matter what anyone says with diligence, endurance, and determination. A successful writer, writes nearly every day, and when they are not writing they have something in their head that is taking shape to be written soon. The worst thing in the world a writer can say is that they don’t have a chance; regardless of whether or not it looks that way, write anyway and put it out there for you never know when the door that would welcome that piece will open; a work that will never see the light of day if it is pressed silently between manila folders in a filing cabinet or remains unseen in your computer documents.
True success as a writer begins with YOU. You have to be the one who takes action and move forward. If you do not, there will be volumes of untold poems, songs, and stories which will have searched in vain for their moment, only to die in silence. Your writings could grant someone a reprieve from the stress of the world, offer some laughs, and bring comfort to the suffering; do not let them drown in a sea of doubt, be the ship-master and take the helm of your destiny.