This speaks to me so deeply: “But in the end, I think we all want that: to belong, to matter, to be cared for, to be safe.”
Sometimes I find myself in the space of “if I don’t proclaim and preserve who I think I am, I will dissipate into a fine mist.” Yet as I continue coming into relationship with the reality of myself as a fine mist, I’m finding liberation. I seem to transition between identifying myself dense as stone and then back to fine mist. And I am everywhere in-between.
And prompted by your essay today… I’m asking myself: what if to belong, to matter, to be cared for, to be safe is also in the mist?
I find myself feeling so “misty” today after reading this. Thank you!
Thank you for this thoughtful, and thought-provoking, piece, Dana. I have only very recently been able to write and share personal essays and memoir pieces about my relationship with my family. I had to wait until I was no longer angry. Until I had forgiven them, and myself, for all the ways we hurt each other. I am a work in progress, and always will be, and so is my writing, so I don't think sharing where I'm at now defines how I need to be in future. It can't. Everything changes, always!
It is difficult to look back at my past self and see the patterns of self-sabotage, the times I was the villain, and the times I failed to learn life's lessons. However, I am trying to face those failures now, to sit down and have conversations with them. All I can hope for is to learn more about these past selves, these hidden parts of me, and then be a better person tomorrow: incremental change, one day at a time.
When I first got sober, I took my first social media detox. In that time, I ended up writing and publishing a book about my recovery through yoga. I was hugely proud of it, although the process nearly drove me into madness. I was so proud of the writing, the journey, and the self awareness I'd gained.
I can't look at it anymore. I was so sure I had figured myself out, but everything about it screams out "this woman has ADHD and a lot of unhealed mental health stuff and she has NO IDEA". Even the act of writing it (because I was speaking at an event in India, and one of the other speakers was publishing a book, and my new friend who was working as a freelance editor was as crazy and undiagnosed ADHD as me agreed to help me) is the most ADHD thing I've ever done.
My perception of myself is changing week by week, and I'm scared to put anything in writing with any certainty now because I know future me will be cringing or laughing or shaking her head in pity at my naivete!
But also, pf couse, its in the writing that I work all this out. But I think I can probably benefit from writing more that's just for me than I do, and spend less time fretting about the fact that I'm not writing 'enough' on the Internet. The Internet doesn't need to know all the paths my self discovery and healing is taking me on, but I do!
I really love this, as someone who talks about writing more than I actually write these days I have a couple of thoughts. 1) I so get the writing to heal, especially in the beginning of sobriety. I always say that the page reveals. It reveals so much about your story, specifically the things you missed when deep in your thoughts. Writing saved my life. 2) It's impossible, for me at least, to ever feel like I've completed the perfect writing piece because I am everchanging. I would go back and rewrite my book way differently now 4 years later because I've evolved and changed and will continue to do so. If I wrote another book right now, I'm confident that I would feel differently in 5 more years. This is the truth of all artists I imagine.
Think of the singer/songwriter who wrote about that ex that screwed them but now they're happily married. Their song might still be a number one hit even though it no longer means anything to them.
Once you write a piece and share it with people, it's really no longer yours. It's for the reader to make of it what they will and use it for their personal journey which might align just right to that version of yourself. It's all so wild!
This is such a gorgeous exploration on writing and the stories inside that make and break us and the stories we share. And why. There is such a richness here - things I will go back to as I consider the words I use to describe myself and my memories and the people that I loved. I feel like I'm still in my newlywed stage of writing, so I appreciate your reflections here.
Thank you, Dana for reminding me that our words matter and that it is important to use them in ways that nourish us. And how, with time, that may change. And that is ok.
My personal take - any form of expression consolidates thought. So many doodles run amok in the mind - getting them to line up, frees space for clarity. One never steps into the same moment twice, true - to learn from the wisdom of that moment, one needs to see it clearly and that's what expression does. What one was at that moment, can blur in memory but penning it will always keep it intact. That can be kept personal or shared in the public domain - that's one's choice. I do believe sharing our experiences helps us widen our awareness horizons, I've learnt quite a bit from everyone who's dared to bare (yes, it needs courage) as I have from your insights too. I'm looking at my life decisions through the focal points you've outlined. Thank you.
I wrote a “memoir” type book and self- published it 7 years ago. That was the first thing I wrote and while it has its flaws, it has some gems too. It’s begging me for a rewrite.
I’m thinking now about honesty versus sensationalism. I don’t think any of us is capable of telling the complete truth, because we don’t know it. Everything was seen through our particular lense. But it sure does bear wondering about our purpose in writing it.
What a lovely thoughtful piece of writing, very freeing. I remember my second trip out of the UK in my 50’s, I was on a bus from Barcelona to Abella de la conca, I felt really free, and then I realised it was because no one on that bus, or where I was going, had any stories about me. I suddenly realised how hard it is to live free from stories, and how that got me stuck in all sorts of ways. Now I just drop the stories, when they rise up I practice letting them flow through, and when they come from others I practice saying, none of my business, and move on.
Oof this resonates. I also wrote a book during covid, a novel based on my experience being broke, grieving my mother and experiencing a lot of sexual trauma. The plot, characters and protagonist are all different from my life, but the emotional truth is spot on. So much so that I wrote two drafts of it and left it in a digital drawer for the last 3 years.
But, after taking some time away from my day to day responsibilities, I'm feeling the pull back towards it. I'm not sure how I want to progress it, or if it's even salvageable but I'm willing to look at it again and find a new way forward with it.
I think (over-think?) about the balance between writing and life, about boundaries, truth, vulnerability and the messiness of my own humanity (the mistakes I've made, the things I'm ashamed of etc). I don't have any answers, but dwelling in the questions feels like part of the writer's life/work.
Thank you for sharing this piece, and congratulations on reaching 100 paid subscribers. It's no small feat and I'm proud to be among them!
What an exploratory post, Dana. I’ve read so much of my past writing which, at the time, felt truer than true, and now I know much of it was a construction in my mind. And that’s the thing about “speaking to truth” — I’m not sure it does exist on a philosophical or existential level.
Writing through my truths and writing into my truths are why I write, not so much to establish one shared reality but to discover my own. It makes me think of this quote from Maya Angelou: ““You are only free when you realize you belong no place—you belong every place—no place at all.”
This piece resonates so deeply for me because writing is how I belong to myself first and foremost. Thank you for sharing yourself with us. ✨
I connected to this so deeply. As a caregiver to a dementia patient and caregiver to aging parents, I write about dementia and how it affects the patient and those people around the patient. While I have never taken permission to write so openly about the people who are so close to me, I have tried my level best to maintain their dignity. I do not write to demean them or the effects of the disease. I write to try and make sense of it for myself and for anyone struggling with similar situations. However, there isn’t a single post that I have written which has not caused me moments of anxiety before I hit the publish button. I question if I sound like a villain or a victim. No matter how pure our intentions may be, words can always be understood in more ways than one. That’s the gamble we take when expressing personal stories.
This speaks to me so deeply: “But in the end, I think we all want that: to belong, to matter, to be cared for, to be safe.”
Sometimes I find myself in the space of “if I don’t proclaim and preserve who I think I am, I will dissipate into a fine mist.” Yet as I continue coming into relationship with the reality of myself as a fine mist, I’m finding liberation. I seem to transition between identifying myself dense as stone and then back to fine mist. And I am everywhere in-between.
And prompted by your essay today… I’m asking myself: what if to belong, to matter, to be cared for, to be safe is also in the mist?
I find myself feeling so “misty” today after reading this. Thank you!
Thank you for this thoughtful, and thought-provoking, piece, Dana. I have only very recently been able to write and share personal essays and memoir pieces about my relationship with my family. I had to wait until I was no longer angry. Until I had forgiven them, and myself, for all the ways we hurt each other. I am a work in progress, and always will be, and so is my writing, so I don't think sharing where I'm at now defines how I need to be in future. It can't. Everything changes, always!
It is difficult to look back at my past self and see the patterns of self-sabotage, the times I was the villain, and the times I failed to learn life's lessons. However, I am trying to face those failures now, to sit down and have conversations with them. All I can hope for is to learn more about these past selves, these hidden parts of me, and then be a better person tomorrow: incremental change, one day at a time.
You just beautifully described the human condition. We make up stories of who we are in order to make sense of an infinitely deep and complex world.
When I first got sober, I took my first social media detox. In that time, I ended up writing and publishing a book about my recovery through yoga. I was hugely proud of it, although the process nearly drove me into madness. I was so proud of the writing, the journey, and the self awareness I'd gained.
I can't look at it anymore. I was so sure I had figured myself out, but everything about it screams out "this woman has ADHD and a lot of unhealed mental health stuff and she has NO IDEA". Even the act of writing it (because I was speaking at an event in India, and one of the other speakers was publishing a book, and my new friend who was working as a freelance editor was as crazy and undiagnosed ADHD as me agreed to help me) is the most ADHD thing I've ever done.
My perception of myself is changing week by week, and I'm scared to put anything in writing with any certainty now because I know future me will be cringing or laughing or shaking her head in pity at my naivete!
But also, pf couse, its in the writing that I work all this out. But I think I can probably benefit from writing more that's just for me than I do, and spend less time fretting about the fact that I'm not writing 'enough' on the Internet. The Internet doesn't need to know all the paths my self discovery and healing is taking me on, but I do!
I really love this, as someone who talks about writing more than I actually write these days I have a couple of thoughts. 1) I so get the writing to heal, especially in the beginning of sobriety. I always say that the page reveals. It reveals so much about your story, specifically the things you missed when deep in your thoughts. Writing saved my life. 2) It's impossible, for me at least, to ever feel like I've completed the perfect writing piece because I am everchanging. I would go back and rewrite my book way differently now 4 years later because I've evolved and changed and will continue to do so. If I wrote another book right now, I'm confident that I would feel differently in 5 more years. This is the truth of all artists I imagine.
Think of the singer/songwriter who wrote about that ex that screwed them but now they're happily married. Their song might still be a number one hit even though it no longer means anything to them.
Once you write a piece and share it with people, it's really no longer yours. It's for the reader to make of it what they will and use it for their personal journey which might align just right to that version of yourself. It's all so wild!
This is such a gorgeous exploration on writing and the stories inside that make and break us and the stories we share. And why. There is such a richness here - things I will go back to as I consider the words I use to describe myself and my memories and the people that I loved. I feel like I'm still in my newlywed stage of writing, so I appreciate your reflections here.
Thank you, Dana for reminding me that our words matter and that it is important to use them in ways that nourish us. And how, with time, that may change. And that is ok.
My personal take - any form of expression consolidates thought. So many doodles run amok in the mind - getting them to line up, frees space for clarity. One never steps into the same moment twice, true - to learn from the wisdom of that moment, one needs to see it clearly and that's what expression does. What one was at that moment, can blur in memory but penning it will always keep it intact. That can be kept personal or shared in the public domain - that's one's choice. I do believe sharing our experiences helps us widen our awareness horizons, I've learnt quite a bit from everyone who's dared to bare (yes, it needs courage) as I have from your insights too. I'm looking at my life decisions through the focal points you've outlined. Thank you.
I find refreshing your willingness to look again at your impulse to write, perhaps asking: What am I doing here? What is this?
I trust that you’ll find something worth writing about, too.
Here’s to ongoing exploration and inquiry.
A lot to think about.
I wrote a “memoir” type book and self- published it 7 years ago. That was the first thing I wrote and while it has its flaws, it has some gems too. It’s begging me for a rewrite.
I’m thinking now about honesty versus sensationalism. I don’t think any of us is capable of telling the complete truth, because we don’t know it. Everything was seen through our particular lense. But it sure does bear wondering about our purpose in writing it.
What a lovely thoughtful piece of writing, very freeing. I remember my second trip out of the UK in my 50’s, I was on a bus from Barcelona to Abella de la conca, I felt really free, and then I realised it was because no one on that bus, or where I was going, had any stories about me. I suddenly realised how hard it is to live free from stories, and how that got me stuck in all sorts of ways. Now I just drop the stories, when they rise up I practice letting them flow through, and when they come from others I practice saying, none of my business, and move on.
For me, I need to share it all but not with everyone. I bore sponsors with my fourth step - I want to entertain my readers. Again, that’s just me.
Oof this resonates. I also wrote a book during covid, a novel based on my experience being broke, grieving my mother and experiencing a lot of sexual trauma. The plot, characters and protagonist are all different from my life, but the emotional truth is spot on. So much so that I wrote two drafts of it and left it in a digital drawer for the last 3 years.
But, after taking some time away from my day to day responsibilities, I'm feeling the pull back towards it. I'm not sure how I want to progress it, or if it's even salvageable but I'm willing to look at it again and find a new way forward with it.
I think (over-think?) about the balance between writing and life, about boundaries, truth, vulnerability and the messiness of my own humanity (the mistakes I've made, the things I'm ashamed of etc). I don't have any answers, but dwelling in the questions feels like part of the writer's life/work.
Thank you for sharing this piece, and congratulations on reaching 100 paid subscribers. It's no small feat and I'm proud to be among them!
Loved this Dana! It’s all about wonder!
What an exploratory post, Dana. I’ve read so much of my past writing which, at the time, felt truer than true, and now I know much of it was a construction in my mind. And that’s the thing about “speaking to truth” — I’m not sure it does exist on a philosophical or existential level.
Writing through my truths and writing into my truths are why I write, not so much to establish one shared reality but to discover my own. It makes me think of this quote from Maya Angelou: ““You are only free when you realize you belong no place—you belong every place—no place at all.”
This piece resonates so deeply for me because writing is how I belong to myself first and foremost. Thank you for sharing yourself with us. ✨
I connected to this so deeply. As a caregiver to a dementia patient and caregiver to aging parents, I write about dementia and how it affects the patient and those people around the patient. While I have never taken permission to write so openly about the people who are so close to me, I have tried my level best to maintain their dignity. I do not write to demean them or the effects of the disease. I write to try and make sense of it for myself and for anyone struggling with similar situations. However, there isn’t a single post that I have written which has not caused me moments of anxiety before I hit the publish button. I question if I sound like a villain or a victim. No matter how pure our intentions may be, words can always be understood in more ways than one. That’s the gamble we take when expressing personal stories.