Why "writing to survive"?
When I started writing again in 2007, I was struggling with my relatively new role as a stay-at-home mom. This is a job that is completely fulfilling for some. It was not for me. I trudged through long days of diapers and nap struggles, brittle from interrupted sleep and overwhelmed with the frightening responsibilities and challenges of being a new mother. Although I loved my family, my time and mind were focused on housework and care-taking. I no longer had a intellectual life.
Then there were the after effects of my tempestuous childhood, my memories of instability and anger topped off with the birth of a stillborn child when I was sixteen. Having another baby opened me up to my teenage experience in surprising ways. The feelings of sadness and guilt lingered. Still, struggling through boredom, dealing with the foibles of a toddler, I had no desire to wrestle with issues I thought were safely behind glass. Then the glass shattered. Pressure had been building; all it took was a light tap, a reminder of what was operating under the surface.
My son is in elementary school now. Our days are more balanced. As I've written about my childhood, my relationship with the past has become more balanced as well. I have stopped writing about it to look for witnesses after the fact, to show strangers what happened to me long ago. It comes up less frequently as a topic. It is less fraught. And there are so many other things to write about: parenthood, the process of writing, my melodramatic interior (the perfect narcissistic blog fodder!), and my struggles with depression. Sometimes I even write (incredibly short) fiction, something I thought was impossible a few years ago.
On the good days -- and there are an increasing number of them -- I transcend the mundane. I create meaning. In creating meaning, I achieve balance.
revised 9/20/2011