I read this last night and felt the little girl metaphorically and physically squished between two worlds just as she was squished in the car. I cannot wait to read more.
These vignettes are so powerful, and painful--a shared pain with you, that little girl, her innocence, longing to feel at home and safe in her own existence, and to belong and be loved with tenderness and care.
Your courage is a teaching. Your willingness to come to the page because āsomething keeps calling me backā is a bravery writ large. Thank you for listening and heeding the call.
And I wish to share that sometimes what you write lingers with such profound feeling, the only response is silence--holding quietly the feelings the writing stirs and the compassion and recognition that what you write is not a story on the page for us to read (as if to consume) but a recollection of a moment that was and is real and true in your real and true life. I offer this to say that your most profound pieces may be the ones with the fewest comments, ironically, which would not mean your work is not engaging. It would mean it is . . . profoundly.
Your mom sounds a lot like mine. I'm so grateful that you wrote this, and that I came across your newsletter. Your courage is inspiring, and reading similar stories to mine is so validating.
So, thanks for this postāit's been with me all day. I look forward to reading more. It's interesting what the editor said to you about people only having so much energy to read about trauma. I've wondered a lot about this, and also how one can tell these stories without self-pity, which is challenging, and which you've done beautifully here.
I look forward to reading more of your wonderful posts as an example of how I might tell some of my own stories at some point. Like you, it's coming from a good place now, so the hope is to help more people see that healing is possible, and given the many of us who've experienced these sorts of upbringings, we're all far from alone. š
Well this was poignant and beautiful! Fingers crossed the next bit comes soon! š§”
The ache. Iām really with you as I read your chapters. Feeling that little girl who longed to belong.
I read this last night and felt the little girl metaphorically and physically squished between two worlds just as she was squished in the car. I cannot wait to read more.
Christy,
These vignettes are so powerful, and painful--a shared pain with you, that little girl, her innocence, longing to feel at home and safe in her own existence, and to belong and be loved with tenderness and care.
Your courage is a teaching. Your willingness to come to the page because āsomething keeps calling me backā is a bravery writ large. Thank you for listening and heeding the call.
And I wish to share that sometimes what you write lingers with such profound feeling, the only response is silence--holding quietly the feelings the writing stirs and the compassion and recognition that what you write is not a story on the page for us to read (as if to consume) but a recollection of a moment that was and is real and true in your real and true life. I offer this to say that your most profound pieces may be the ones with the fewest comments, ironically, which would not mean your work is not engaging. It would mean it is . . . profoundly.
With love,
RenƩe
Your mom sounds a lot like mine. I'm so grateful that you wrote this, and that I came across your newsletter. Your courage is inspiring, and reading similar stories to mine is so validating.
So, thanks for this postāit's been with me all day. I look forward to reading more. It's interesting what the editor said to you about people only having so much energy to read about trauma. I've wondered a lot about this, and also how one can tell these stories without self-pity, which is challenging, and which you've done beautifully here.
I look forward to reading more of your wonderful posts as an example of how I might tell some of my own stories at some point. Like you, it's coming from a good place now, so the hope is to help more people see that healing is possible, and given the many of us who've experienced these sorts of upbringings, we're all far from alone. š