What Writing Is To Me And How Tragedy Fits Into It.

In the fourth grade we used to have to keep a weekly journal. Most of the time the teacher gave us topics that he wanted us to write about. But every now and then we got a treat with creative writing and we could write anything we wanted as long as it was in a short story form. All of us got excited to be able to write about whatever it was we wanted. 

It was close to Halloween when we got treated with one of those special and I was stoked. I wanted to write a scary story, because well it was close to Halloween which is my favorite holiday; but  even at that age I had a thing about sticking with a theme of things. And I had the perfect inspiration. I used to have this reoccurring nightmare where these flesh stripped hands would pop up out of the floor to try and grab my ankle which forced me to walk around my house like it was a game of the floor is hot lava. The dream itself was always very vivid but lacked enough story to see a pattern as to what caused them in the first place. So I decided to turn the dream into a story. I called it, "The Witch That Lived In The Floor." 

This was the first time I had taken something personal and transformed it into something creative. Even though I am more then sure that my teacher was taken aback by this story at first, he did ask me what inspired it. I remember saying, " I wanted a scary story so I figured I would use something that scared me because it might scare someone else." After that I explained to him the reoccurring nightmare that I had over the past couple of years. I got an A+ for that week. 

After that it was years until I picked up a pen that way again. I was 16 in fact. My junior year English class and we were tasked with writing a poem. It was different then. I wasn't as innocent as I was in the 4th grade and I was an angry sac of hormones that happened to be the first born of two drug addicts. That time in my life was very confusing and infuriating and I let that fury fly out with my poem. I poured my anger and my pain into every word. My teacher questioned my motivation behind it with a more avid curiosity as he should have. I chalked it down to issues with my parents divorcing. But in reality if you are or have ever been the child of an addict, you just don't bring it up. 

He entered that poem into a county writing contest and I won second place. I was blown away by it, exhilarated even. But still lacked the immaturity to make the connection to using my emotion to write to connect to people; but as as outlet still escaped me. It wasn't until a couple years later when it finally clicked. I got fed up with my parents antics and went to live with my grandparents for a year. That year I spent a lot of time combing through my grandparents extensive library and I came across a book of my grandma's about a thief and a poet. That story spoke to me in a way that I needed. I wrote my first poem without being prompted too and it was like some weight was lifted. I saw a little more clearly. So I kept at it and still haven't quit. The only thing that has changed is that it went from an outlet to a passion. 

C.S. Lewis has a quote that states, "We don't write to be understood. We write so we can understand." And I couldn't agree more. Having this outlet not only helped me understand the things I was feeling, it's helped me identify key issues within myself and allows me a a way to purge it. 

I've been slowly sharing my work on social media platforms over the years where I have made some amazing connections and have learned to grow within my craft. But it still is an intimidating situation because my work is specifically emotion based vs. creative based. 

They say that writing about your own tragedy's can form a connection with your readers in way that is truly unique. It's like souls speaking to one another from distance and another time; but yet there is an understanding and a feeling that makes you feel like you are not alone in the world. I've connected to writers in the past because of this and it has inspired me to want to share my story in hopes that it helps someone somewhere in this world who is struggling with similar situations as I did and do. 

This world is full of hidden tragedy due to fear and shame. And through that fear and shame mental illness breeds and is born isolating us even further away from society, community and our so called tribes of loved ones. As human beings it's become a part of our nature to shame those who struggle. We shun people into loosing their self worth even if we don't realize it. We are all guilty of it, even myself. 

I want this to change. So I am going to do what I can in my life to change that. And don't misunderstand me, I am wise enough to know that this change may not happen while I am still alive; but my footsteps will help pave the way to those that will follow me and go even further and so on over the years. Hope breeds hope. 

I've been struggling with how I was going to share my story, my life, my thoughts. But I have found it and I have found how I am going to do it as I was writing this entry. Call this my introduction.