A Decade To Remember

I’m not sure why I ever stopped writing. As a child you couldn’t tear the notebook from my hands. I’d fill up one after the other, using the moonlight to scribble whatever came to mind in the comfort of my bed, afraid if I turned the light on my parents would know I was up way past my bedtime. I could never concentrate on anything in daily life except the stories in my head. I dreamed of becoming an author one day. I wish I could say that they trampled on my dreams and forced me to get a “real” career because that would make me feel better about having failed up to this point, but instead it was quite the opposite.

My parents encouraged me, read my stories, listened to my crazy ideas, and never batted an eye at the curse words or gore even when I was 10 years old because to be an author, you had to write like one, my mom always said. I never wanted to go to college because I didn’t find it necessary. But after my senior year, I felt lost working in retail for minimum wage so off to a local community college I went. My second year there I met my future ex-husband, and that appears to be where I went wrong.

My twenties were filled with ups and downs, mostly downs. Divorce, death, heartbreak, booze, and lots of prescribed drugs, all of which contributed to my ultimate mental break. Somehow, I imagined adult life being a lot more glorious, but then again, I wasn’t really an adult just yet, was I? That’s the funny thing about your twenties. You think you’ve got it figured out, but really, it’s just a new phase of more important and lasting screw-ups. But it’s also about finding yourself, getting on your feet, planning your future. Most times it never turns out how you imagine, and I’m sure I’ll be thinking the same thing in ten years and ten years after that.

Life is a learning process. I’ve always been a spiritual person but not until recently have I really begun expanding my knowledge on the subject. One of my main areas of focus is how spirituality, and lack thereof, relates to mental illness. We all have different experiences under our belt that lead us to act and react in certain ways as we grow older. It’s a cliché, but we cannot judge others without knowing their reasons. The more I think about it, the more I realize that may be one of the contributing factors into why I stopped writing: fear of judgment. Judgment that I didn’t know what I was talking about, judgment that I hadn’t conducted myself the way I should have, judgment about my reactions or feelings, and so on and so on.

The best part of growing up, though, is you no longer fear judgment. So here I am, ready to share my story and hoping there is at least one person out there who may receive some comfort and maybe even help from reading it. If nothing else, maybe you’ll get at least a laugh. I’ll settle for a chuckle, though.