Sad Bedtime Stories

 "Say what you have to say, not what you ought.
Any truth is better than make-believe."

~ Henry David Thoreau ~

My blog was recently described as "Sad Bedtime Stories" by someone who has not even read a single word ~ but has either heard about the nature of my stories from either me or through Facebook links read by mutual friends.

"Are you going to write another "Sad Bedtime Story" tonight?" he joked on Saturday night.

Since getting my own computer, I am finally able to write online at a moment's notice and was trying to post one story a day this month of February.  His words made me stop and think about people's reactions to my stories.

Yes, they are sad.  But, to me, they are also filled with hope.  I had to debrief with my friend Delia, my sister, and my father about this comment.  Only Delia and my dear brother have read the blog from the beginning.  My sister has limited time and access to a computer for personal use.  The stories are too painful for my father to read on a regular basis, and I gave him permission from the beginning not to read, especially since most of the earlier stories were about Mom's death from lung cancer.

By my second story ~ "Dreams" ~ the blog had evolved into other stories about domestic violence. "Dreams" was not intended to end with a discussion on how my batterer tried to shatter my dreams.  But as I free wrote the story, it all came back to me ~ how he made fun of the one dream that never died.  And then I found that I had so much more to say on the subject and a whole other audience ~ beyond my family and the few Facebook friends that I have ~ there was a whole other group of women who are either experiencing domestic violence or who are survivors such as myself who could benefit from my words.

Yet the phrase "Sad Bedtime Stories" is still bothering me even after a few days.  I talked to my sister about this comment twice, and she said, "We'll at least you know they're reading them."  I thought about myself and how I am perceived ~ writing these "sad bedtime stories" on a daily basis.  I have checked in with other people who care about me, and they still encourage me to write.  I worry that I could be judged today for what I was judged for then ~ for my history of domestic violence.  I worry that people will think I am still damaged in some way.  

I thought about why I write after having taking a break for so long.  I thought about how I had been silent for so long.  I thought about how what I really want is for my family and true friends to know my story.   Someday I want my father to know my story.  I kept my truth a secret for so long.

I think that is all that really matters.  That eventually the whole truth does come out.  I am tired of keeping secrets ~ even if they were not the type that jeopardized my relationships with my family.  My family is still here for me.  When others were not back then.

I think, for me, it is easier to share the stories on paper instead of face-to-face.  I had a reunion over coffee recently.  Would I have really wanted to spend the precious 90 minutes telling him how my head was once bashed into a wall?  No, I wanted to talk about more exciting topics or a more favorable trip down memory lane.  So the blog is one way of telling him what happened in the sixteen years since I last saw him.  The blog is actually a way for me to live in the present.  Instead of dwelling on the past. 

Because in my day-to-day life, I try to live in the present.  I work hard recruiting students to higher education.  I work hard making $2-$3 an hour at The Flea Market on Sundays ~ now so I can remember where I have been ~ when that $2-$3 an hour meant the difference in eating 2-3 meals a day ~ when I once struggled so much financially for over two years.  I try to enjoy what I love most ~ animals and movies ~ and always find time to treat myself to breakfast around the town on my day off from work.

But I need to remember, so I will not forget.

So much had been blocked out.

I need to remember how far I have come in my journey to get to a better life today.  

And so, I will continue to write my "Sad Bedtime Stories" for as long as it takes to get my story out.  And when I am done, I will write more stories about other adventures in my life.  Maybe they will be happy, maybe they will be sad.  But they will always be honest and full of soul and purpose.  They will always be the stories of who I am and what I have been through during this thing we call life.

In the movie "Little Women", Professor Bhaer tells Jo to "write what you know."  I have never forgotten those words since the moment I heard them on screen when I was only 10 years old.  And I have only written non-fiction because of those profound words.  I have wanted to be a writer even since I heard those words as if they had been spoken directly to me.

I need to remember, so I will not forget.