So, I guess I am writing a book?

Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash

One of my greatest coping tools throughout childhood was writing. It felt, at times, as if my sheer survival depended on my ability to escape into my room, put pen to paper and scribble out words, phrases, pictures, and poems. I documented my thoughts, my habits, endless lists, streams of consciousness, and sporadic trains of thought that change route mid-sentence.

Seeing blank paper in front of me gives me a sense of freedom. It gives me hope. Hope that, whatever needs to comes out is supposed to come out, and that there will be some sort of relief or clarity on the other end. There is no real knowing what will reveal itself on the page, which can be nerve wracking. I guess that’s why so many pages are often left blank. The fear of what may come.

As I go through life, the fear of what may come, has been replaced with excitement of what is yet to come. The utter anticipation to see what surprise is around the next corner of life, keeps life interesting. How many times have I wandered around without a clue or written words on paper without knowing where it will lead, and look back at the end, to see the exact, meandering path that got me to be precisely where I needed to be.

Which I think is how I got to be right here, right now, writing this blog and accepting the fact that, by simple definition, I am a writer. In fact, I’ve recently written 67,276 words (and counting) in one single Word document. I think some people call that writing a book. 

I am still stepping into that fact, getting comfortable trying on the label of author and “writing a book”. So it was suggested to me by my straight-talking spiritual sister life coach, that I set my writing free into the Universe as a way to practice vulnerability, practice writing and practice the process.

My whole life my writing has always been for me, about me, to understand me, to explain me, to process me, to heal me. But one of the many words of wisdoms I have come to hear about the book writing process is that when you write a book, you should write a book that needs to be written for others to read. Which means, it is no longer about me. I am no longer writing for myself. I am now sharing my story, in hopes that one day it is the book at needed to read by someone else.

Therefore, I am writing for the millions of survivors who have experienced sexual abuse at the hands of a family member. I am writing for the woman in her 20s who, on the outside seems to have her life together but on the inside, feels deep shame and brokenness. I am writing for the teenager who is just trying to hold it together after speaking up and out against a family member who has been abusive. I am writing for the mom who is lost and confused after hearing that her daughter had been molested by a sibling. I am writing for the dad who wants to better understand his son after learning about interfamily sexual abuse history.

I am also writing for the person that loves someone who has been abused by a loved one. I am writing for parents, adults, teachers, and anyone who works with youth on how to look for signs of trauma, because the signs are there and you can help. I am writing for anyone who has faced adversity, dealt with trauma of any kind, and overcome. I am writing to let people know that healing is possible and absolutely within arms-reach.

So this is my humble practice right now. To practice setting my writing free now, so that when the time comes to put the final touches on the creation that is in the works, it will be ready to fly. It will be molded, shaped and polished by the fingers that have spent many hours doing what they have known how to do for perhaps lifetimes before, and that is to write.