Searching for My Narrative

Occasionally, I’ll share portions of Crazy: Reclaiming Life from the Shadow of Traumatic Memory that didn’t make the cut. My editor, Sarah Chauncey, taught me that authors have to learn to “kill their darlings,” which means a good piece of writing may just not belong in this spot or in that piece of work. “Save it,” she told me, “and use it some where else.” This blog post about ‘searching for my narrative’ was in the first draft of my memoir. I share it with you and hope it holds some meaning for you. ~ Lyn


I didn’t know it at the time, but when I checked into the women’s unit at a psychiatric hospital thirty years ago, I was searching for memories.

Looking for Memories

I never found them, at least not the kind you can take to the bank. I couldn’t remember the day I was wearing a purple polka-dot dress when someone hurt me. Or the wallpaper in the corner of the room when I was crying out in pain. Or the words or sequence of events of something that might have happened to make me become the crazy person I currently was. 

I never remembered any of that, even after hospitalization and ten years of in-depth therapy. I can’t begin to tell you how much I wanted those memories – something, anything, to give reason to my insanity. See, I was even defective when trying to heal – I couldn’t conjure up one concrete memory to explain away my craziness.

“They’ll come,” said my friend confidently. “They’ll come,” said my psychiatrist at the women’s unit, assuredly.  “They’ll come,” said every book I ever read with authority. They never came.

Telltale Signs

But I did identify, over time, the footprints in the sand that led to hidden caves housing dark secrets. The tell-tale signs left by the intruder on my psyche were like seeds scattered on the ground at my birdfeeder. Without catching a glimpse of them, I knew the birds were there because the casings became a carpet on my lawn. 

Like my cringeworthy, nauseous response to cigarettes and ashes and butts in ashtrays that started in early childhood and continues to this day. Like my deep-seated fear of boys that made me freeze, lips quivering, giving away the secret that I didn’t know myself. Like my pathological shyness that belied my creative spirit and innate smarts. Like my mental and emotional confusion that made my skin crawl and my body ache and my mind split into a hundred pieces, each vying frantically for attention. Like the other feelings I never knew I had, emerging inside and outside of therapy as a midwife-attended birth: terror, anger, rage, passion, shame, tenderness for myself, strength, courage. Like my lack of substantial memories of any part of my childhood, my suicidal tendencies, and my sense of living in a parallel universe looking on at the world around me but never able to reach out and touch it. Like the parts of me who claimed names and introduced themselves, one by one by one by one.

What is Truth?

Much like truth that isn’t simply a litany of facts but rather their interaction with context and meaning and a whole host of other factors, a personal narrative doesn’t rely entirely on the popular concept of memory. Truth can be inferred the same way the scientist, who knows oxygen is in the room by the life it sustains, can’t see even one molecule of the hidden gas. Story is what emerges from the bits and pieces of fragmented clues giving meaning to a life – in this case, my life. 

So the symptoms have become my story, and that will have to do. 


DW Writes On!

DW Writes On! is a one-time-only fundraising initiative to raise funds for legal fees to become a nonprofit organization. We are grateful for our many writers and facilitators who offer a safe space for dissociative writers. Becoming a nonprofit will sustain this space, now and in the future. So far, we’ve raised almost $1,400. Can you help? To support our effort to become a 501(c)3 nonprofit, click here. Thank you!

Last Call for Anthology!

We’re waiting to receive YOUR writing for our third annual Creative Healing Anthology. Send you writing and/or artwork by September 16 to gabby here. Include the completed Guidelines and Agreement to Publish which you can find at Groupeasy/Documents/Anthology 2024. Email gabby if you have questions. We can’t wait to see your writing!

September Workshops & Events

Monday, September 11, 3 pm Eastern: Memoir Class, By Registration Only

Monday, September 11, 6:30 pm Eastern: DW Business Meeting

Tuesday, September 12, 1 pm Eastern: Traditional Workshop

Wednesday, September 13, 8 pm Eastern, Writing-in-Place

Monday, September 18, 3 pm Eastern, Memoir Class, By Registration Only

Tuesday, September 19, 1 pm Eastern, Writing-in-Place

Wednesday, September 20, 2 pm, Social Hangout

Monday, September 25, 3 pm Eastern: Memoir Class, By Registration Only

Tuesday, September 26, 1 pm Eastern: Traditional Workshop

Wednesday, September 27, 8 pm: Writing-in-Place

Quilted on Sale Now!

Quilted: Piecing Together My Dissociated Selves by Suritaplus, an active subscriber to Dissociative Writers. Available today at Bookbaby and on preorder at Amazon where release is September 5th. Support our Dissociative Writers!


🕊️

Stand therefore, and fasten the belt of truth around your waist.

~ Ephesians 6:14a

Lyn

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