Today, I talked to an old friend who had shared their mental illness struggles through a Facebook video. I was moved by what they shared and how it was shared. I suggested they consider doing a vlog or podcast because the video was relatable and conveyed humbly and sincerely. Our short conversation got me thinking about how I got my start writing and where it’s taken me.
I’ve enjoyed writing for as long as I can remember. I can still see 7-year-old me sitting on the elementary school porch at lunchtime with my Little House on the Prarie book, a stack of lined paper, and a pencil, copying the text word for word. I think the first dream about my future was that I wanted to be an author.
It’s probably fair to say that my love of reading got me to that point. Reading was always my happy place growing up. I could get lost in a book and forget about everything else. I was painfully shy so putting my nose in a book was my safety zone. It kept me from having to feel awkward and dumb or being left out.
Fast forward to middle school in the early ’80s. Not only did we have big hair and great music, but this was the era of slam books and writing & passing notes to your friends. Long, intricately folded notes. We sure could fold a note back then. And the passing of notes, that was an art in itself. We would press them into our friend’s hand as we passed in the hallway between classes. Slide the note through the locker door vents and hope it didn’t get lost in the pile of textbooks and gym clothes at the bottom. If there was something vitally important we had to share with our friend, who sat three rows away in class, we would put a note in one of the thick dictionaries stacked on a table at the back of the classroom. Then exchange a look and a head nod with our friend, who would go to the back of the room, seemingly looking up a word, and quietly remove the note from the dictionary. The 1984 version of on the down-low. Which probably wasn’t on the DL at all. I’m pretty sure Mr. Allen knew exactly what we were doing.
Life as a military wife (pre-Internet), I found myself writing letters home to family and friends because phone calls were a small fortune back then, especially if you were out of the country. Every duty station meant more friends had become like family I eventually had to say goodbye to. The only way to stay in touch was to write letters. A huge part of our lives was the thrill of finding letters in the mail from home or a friend from two duty stations ago.
In my 30’s (we have the Internet now, yay!), community college was where I discovered that I enjoyed researching and writing the dreaded 20-page paper. I thought it was weird. Who likes to do this stuff, right? I found myself in English 112, which I was highly annoyed that I had to take. A classroom full of 19-year-olds who only wanted to get through the semester. Talk about feeling awkward! Somehow I made it through, though. I remember meeting with the instructor to critique my final paper. He told me he was recommending me for honors English because he was impressed with my writing. I sat in my car crying after the meeting. To be told by someone of that stature that my writing was good came as a shock to me because I had such low self-esteem.
It was in my creative non-fiction writing course at SVSU, where I found out that writing about yourself isn’t so scary. I went into that class thinking I could never write honestly about myself. My professor was so inspiring, AND she had a tea cart she rolled into class with her each night.
Side note: If you are majoring or minoring in writing at SVSU, I highly recommend Dr. Arra Ross.
One of the first things I wrote for the class was Codependency Isn’t a Life Sentence to Disappointment. For the first time, I took an honest look at myself and wasn’t afraid to put it on paper. The Heart of Trust is another one from that class. Creative non-fiction truly shaped my writing. However, I wouldn’t have all this to share if I hadn’t had experiences in life that, at the time, I thought were negative. I learned from each and every experience I went through.
My boyfriend and I often share a mantra when one of us is frustrated and angry about something happening in our lives:
“Don’t think about what this experience is doing TO YOU but think about what it is DOING FOR you.” ~Hope
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