“I believe that we don’t choose our stories,” she began, leaning forward. “Our stories choose us.” She paused and took a sip of water. Her hand, I noticed was steady. “And if we don’t tell them, then we are somehow diminished.”
– Dani Shapiro, Still Writing: The Perils and Pleasures of a Creative Life
It’s natural I believe, to not want to be diminished in any way, especially if we grew up feeling small, even invisible. If it’s possible to disappear, you will.
I haven’t told many stories about my childhood, and how I felt growing up. Part of the reason is because my memory is shocking – shockingly poor. I remember fragments, moments, bits and pieces. The other reason is because I was afraid. A story has been clawing itself out of me for a while now. Years. You could say it’s the start of a very big, long story, the foundation of who I am.
Today, I share that story at Mamalode. It is with some trepidation, putting out those 800 plus words into the world. I don’t know what the consequences will be personally. Whatever they may be, I suppose I will have to steel myself and wait for it. The story is out there now.
I will not be diminished anymore.
I would love for you to read it. Thank you.