I Wrote About My Trauma to Tell My Story, Not to Hurt Anyone
I don’t want to hurt anyone. Seriously. I really don’t. I may unintentionally offend strangers when I refuse to answer their messages that only say “Hello” or “Hey there, beautiful,” but my hurting people is NOT intentional. I made this very clear in a post on my Facebook author page when, after one person’s actions inspired a story idea and that person later passed away, I DO NOT want to hurt people with my writing.
That’s not what my writing is for.
Although what I write may bring up painful memories for people. But that is not my intention with my writing.
It’s hard to write about trauma and harder still to write about horrible things from our past. I once started a trauma journal, but after two writing episodes, I was done. I couldn’t write more.
But now I can, and I did.
I wrote about some horrible things from my past in my recent poetry book, 3 A.M. Poetry.
I had already written about similar topics in my poetry chapbook, The House That Madness Built.
The only difference is that 3 A.M. goes deeper and explores the darker regions of my pain and depression. It also explores my addiction (to alcohol) and the struggles with mental health issues that resulted from the extensive trauma. It’s more personal. The House that Madness Built mainly focuses on the dysfunctional family dynamics I grew up with.
I only wrote about all this because it’s my story to tell. That is something that happened in my past and I felt it was time to step forward and talk about it. If people want to know about the kind of life I have had, all they need to do is read my poems, my blog posts, my essay collection and, at some point, my memoir.
But I don’t write all of that stuff as a way of hurting someone. That is NOT my intention at all. I only write about it because it is my story to tell, my experiences, and something that I personally have a right to talk about and share.
You know, I’m not going to be here forever. After I’m gone, all that’s left are the words I have written. And since people like to make up a lot of stories about me or assume a lot of bullshit about me, then I feel compelled to tell MY story.
The poems in those books are all things I have gone through. My experiences and my feelings. This was me showing a side of myself I was too scared to talk about in the past. This was me revealing why my alcoholism was so bad and why it lasted for so long. What drove me to drink in the first place was that everybody in my family drank, so naturally I started drinking too. But then my trauma made it worse.
I am no longer in that prison anymore, though. Sure, sometimes the trauma hits me hard, but for the most part, I am happy with my life now. I am no longer an alcoholic and I no longer want to take my own life.
I don’t want pity for what I have gone through, either. I only want to have my story told. I want people to understand why I am the way I am, and where I came from. (Sadly, many people have assumed that because of my burns or disabilities, I have had it easy and was treated with pity or special privileges when I was growing up. Uh, no!)
Hopefully, the act of writing about my trauma will give other people who have been through something similar the strength to share their stories too. We should not keep these things bottled up or hidden away. Our stories need to be told and out in plain sight.
And I want people to know that the nightmare they are going through WILL come to an end at some point. I did not succeed in trying to take my life and I am grateful for that every single day. Life got better.
It DOES get better. We just have to hold on and try to make it through. It’s worth it to hold on. I promise.
I hope that is what people will take away from this book after they read it. That is why I ended the book with two poems that offered hope, because there IS hope. The hell I was in did not last forever for me and it won’t last forever for anyone else going through something similar, either.
So hold on, because your future is worth it.
Labels: abuse, books, childhood, journaling, life, poetry, trauma, writing