I went to a memoir-writing workshop recently. I don't want to be the girl who cries at the slightest thing but, in this case, I was. They asked the question: who told you, you can't write? We had to state our writing demons, and then write out the dialog between this inner critique and our retaliation to their remarks. Ultimately, it is only ourselves that can hold us back from our own dreams. But sometimes we've internalized the voices of others tell us that we can't. I'd done this exercise before privately, in my own bed, in my own room, and in my own journal but never out loud. When we were done, we had to go around the table and read the dialog. I was picked the first to go. Before I could even let out a word, my throat choked up, my face turn red, and my eyes began to water. I read and cried. We all cried. I thought I had left all that hurt hidden away on paper somewhere, and there it was strangling me. I can't begin to describe that whole situation with my demons without writing a book. I'll leave that for my memoirs. I went home that night and did some visualization techniques to let go of the residual pain and send it away. I felt better immediately. The workshop helped to remind me that it's up to me to write and keep going.
I went to a memoir-writing workshop recently. I don't want to be the girl who cries at the slightest thing but, in this case, I was. They asked the question: who told you, you can't write? We had to state our writing demons, and then write out the dialog between this inner critique and our retaliation to their remarks. Ultimately, it is only ourselves that can hold us back from our own dreams. But sometimes we've internalized the voices of others tell us that we can't. I'd done this exercise before privately, in my own bed, in my own room, and in my own journal but never out loud. When we were done, we had to go around the table and read the dialog. I was picked the first to go. Before I could even let out a word, my throat choked up, my face turn red, and my eyes began to water. I read and cried. We all cried. I thought I had left all that hurt hidden away on paper somewhere, and there it was strangling me. I can't begin to describe that whole situation with my demons without writing a book. I'll leave that for my memoirs. I went home that night and did some visualization techniques to let go of the residual pain and send it away. I felt better immediately. The workshop helped to remind me that it's up to me to write and keep going.
Touching story and very moving. I'm glad you have overcome the biggest hurdle and became a writer, despite the feelings and memories :)
ReplyDeleteBeautiful picture! And congratulations on having the courage to share your tears in a class setting. I'm glad the hear the workshop helped 'send' the pain away let strength emerge to keep on going.
ReplyDeleteSofia,
ReplyDeleteBeen there! When I get to the point where I'm telling myself to give it up because, who am I kidding, I can't write. I think about all the people who overcame their inseuriies and found their life mission. They say it takes a tough skin to be a writer, and I learned that's it's true. I left awards for you on my blog. Way to hang in there.
I can relate to this until I've found out that writing is the window of our mind...
ReplyDelete