Writing Our Life Stories
“Now, in this place, we take time out to look back, to see where we have been and what we have been, to reflect on what we have learned thus far on our journey.”
At the age of 10, I knew I was fat – not that anyone in my family was actually rude enough to say so – no, insinuations were enough. My parents were very focused on raising a ‘lady’, and restraint and will power were considered important characteristics. I was constantly told not to slouch, to pull in my stomach, and when I reached for a second helping, I would be met with a raised eyebrow of disapproval. I was tall for my age, clumsy, and uncoordinated – and not a great athlete. And so it’s no surprise that, at 10 years old, I knew I was fat. The sad part is that I continued to think I was fat for the next 45 years.
I wrote these lines in a memoir course I took several years ago. I had wanted to write a series of memoir pieces on mothers and daughters to share with my girls. But instead, my memories unearthed a lot of unprocessed pain, starting me on a road to self-awareness through writing. Our memories are a collection of stories we know but do not yet fully understand. Writing allows us to explore and understand these stories instead of simply summarizing the events. While I continue compiling stories to share with my daughters, I now also write life stories to guide my own journey. As a woman ‘of a certain age’, you also have an opportunity to pause, reflect, and explore the experiences and relationships that put your life in motion many years ago. There are many reasons for this; you may want to leave a legacy for your children and grandchildren; or write a memoir; or, as Brené Brown shares, you may want to own your own history so you can write a brave new ending to your story. What tugs at your heart as you contemplate looking back and looking forward?
In exploring my life stories I have turned to several authors who guide and support me with their wise words. These words may also resonate with you.
“I’ve made many mistakes and often failed to live up to my aspirations, but I don’t need to look back with regret. Instead, I can see all of my mess-ups as humus or compost for the growing I needed to do. I love the fact that the word “humus” is related to “humility.” The good I do today may well have its roots in something not so good I did in the past. Knowing that takes me beyond both the sinkhole of regret and the hot-air balloon of pride. Regret shuts life down. Humility opens it up.” - Parker J. Palmer, Meaning Changes As Life Unfolds, On Being
I have regrets – those should haves and could haves that, for a long time, I wanted to undo. But I wouldn’t be who I am without all the mistakes and screw-ups I’ve made over this lifetime. I like who I am today. I’m not sure I would feel the same if I pressed rewind and lived my life differently.
“I think we are well-advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not. Otherwise, they turn up unannounced and surprise us, come hammering on the mind’s door at 4 a.m. of a bad night and demand to know who deserted them, who betrayed them, who is going to make amends. We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget. We forget the loves and the betrayals alike, forget what we whispered and what we screamed, and forget who we were.” - Joan Didion
I have spent the last two months helping my 85-year old mother purge her belongings and move into an independent seniors complex, a 5-minute walk from our home. During this time there have been moments when my memory-challenged, fragile mother took on the persona of the mother I remember from my younger years, sending me reeling back into the abyss of my childhood. I thought the power she held over me had long ago dissipated. Not so. After one rather challenging day, I drove down to the ocean, parked my Beetle, and burst into tears. I felt such sadness for what my younger self had struggled through. Then I drove home and began writing. I wrote until the pain dissolved. That is the power of writing our life stories.
“Sometimes when you’re carrying around too much pain, you don’t want to open your mouth because you’re afraid you’ll start yelling and won’t stop.” - Julia Spencer Fleming, Hid From Our Eyes
See above. If I do not write, I would open my mouth and say painful things that I may regret. And so I continue to write out my stories, reflecting, mining deeper, and replenishing my well.
Women Rowing North: Writing Our Life Stories
This fall I am embarking on a new journey and I invite you to join me for Women Rowing North: Writing Our Life Stories, based on techniques that continue to guide my own reflective journey.
This is not a writing course; you do not need writing experience. As a trained Guided Autobiography instructor, I will lead you through themes and enlightening questions that will foster memories and recollections to help you with your writing. You are invited to write 1-2 page stories on weekly themes and then read your stories within a safe, small group experience. You only share what you are comfortable sharing. Feedback from group members is supportive and encouraging, with no critiques of writing style or content. This process blends the best of both solitude and community and by sharing this experience with like-minded women, you will experience the powerful catalyst of learning about yourself and our shared female experiences.
I recognize that over the last two weeks I have focused a lot on the importance of writing as part of my journey. Please know, this blog is not going to be a place where I try to gently guide you into my life story workshops. If you are interested, you will find your way there. This blog, however, will continue to focus on topics loosely related to our collective journey transitioning into this next stage of our lives. I have a long list of themes I still want to explore! And I’d love to hear what topics might be sparking your interest on this journey!