Finding Freedom

Giving ourselves permission to tell our own stories requires that we first take ownership. No one else can accurately express what you feel in your heart, paint what you see with your eyes, or describe the experiences stored in your mind and body. Only you can do this. And only after finding courage to take the risk.  The title of my book, Catching Rain, is a metaphor for ‘capturing memories’ that are being lost.  Our humanness is the one thing we all share and whatever our personal circumstances or beliefs, telling our stories is like extending a hand. Freeing myself to share these experiences of life connects me to others.

Here is what Carolyn from Chico, California wrote to her friend:  “Thank you for gifting me with Sandi’s book, Catching Rain. It’s a good thing you did because I was not likely to buy anything about dementia. The thought of reading such a book depressed me. Who would have guessed that Sandi’s book will be, I’m sure, one of my all-time favorite books? And who would guess that a book on dementia would be a page turner? Seriously, how did she do that? As a writer myself, I am humbled. She is a master. Thinking about it, I realize that it’s not just good writing, but who she is that makes the book so good. This person of integrity and courage and honesty coupled with such wonderful writing skills, organizing the material that she presents in such an easy way to read, is what makes this such a great book. Thank you, thank you. I will recommend it to others. It would make such a good book-group reading.”  Having a person like Carolyn respond to my thoughts and experiences with such insight and respect feels like success to me. 

In childhood, I would have been the kid who pointed to the emperor and shouted, “That guy is naked!” I never outgrew this tendency and, while a few people are still trying to shush me, those closest to me embrace it.  Many of us are taught not to talk about ourselves, or about ‘private’ things. It can be emotionally or physically dangerous to do so. I remember as a young girl, if we shared family secrets we would also say, “Promise not to tell!” “This is supposed to stay in the family.” “Skeletons belong in the closet.” Sometimes there are threats:  “If you tell, I will hurt you.” I often heard that we should not wash dirty laundry in public.  

Remember that for women all over the world, washing laundry in public provides connection with other women, and sometimes men, who also have dirty laundry. It is like going to the well in ancient times when the well offered much more than water. 

After completing Catching Rain, my friends, with one glaring exception, had a lot to say. All were curious, excited and supportive even though some were concerned about me being so open and vulnerable. I mostly scoffed at this because, at my age, there are not many ways to punish me. I care only about the opinions of people I respect.  I don’t join clubs so can’t be excluded. I am not employed so can’t be fired.  I don’t need to sell books to survive.  What’s the worst that could happen?  

When I finally asked for my silent friend’s thoughts about the book, she took a long pause before answering that she was “surprised.” Her tone communicated that it was not a pleasant surprise. After pressing her for more information, she said, “I thought it would be more about Randy than you” and then scoffed with a laugh that dismissed my years of grief and creative effort before adding, “It seems like you just wanted to get some things off your chest.”  I was shocked at the rage that surged through me. This lovely woman, who had been silenced and belittled in her own life, wanted me to shut-up about myself. Worse, she wanted me to believe that what I shared was self-indulgent and of no value to others.

Of course, I won’t be doing that – the shutting-up thing. But the rage is something I have subdued. When I realized that it came from my own unspoken expectations, the gift in her comments unwrapped itself for me.  I had been struggling to describe my reasons for publishing. She presented me with a truth I had difficulty acknowledging. It has been said that many writers write out of desperation and I certainly did. But publishing, for me, is an offering. When it is refused, I must remember to let it lay at the feet of those who refuse it.

‘Catching Rain’ is about Randy’s dementia. It is also necessarily about me!  Writing became my voice when I had difficulty speaking. It allowed me to bleed in private yet expose my wounds to the air. I was surprised to find that telling secrets publicly was somehow more freeing because there was no concern about overburdening people sitting next to me. Randy no longer had a voice and so I  shared my experiences of him, our love, and his illness. When my own memories rose to remind me who I was and where I came from, offering them to others relieved the aching loneliness of being forgotten. Randy knew all my secrets and loved me because of them… not in spite of them.  I remembered how we enjoyed talking about things other people find uncomfortable and revived that for myself.  I am washing dirty laundry and rubbing out some of the stains with readers.     

I want to encourage us all to howl and cry when we need to. Laugh in the face of disaster.  Speak-up when we want to be heard. Write your experiences down or share them with trusted friends. Join a support group where you listen to others and then say what you feel like saying.  Sharing stories is where empathy and understanding begins. Silencing is where it ends. 

This is my first, and most edited, blog post.  I hope to post periodically and share additional thoughts along with additional comments from readers. In the meantime, feel free to contact me to share your own experiences of being silenced, or of not realizing when you have silenced someone else. I know I have. Who could knew that finding freedom might require exposing dirty laundry?

Later Gators!

SANDI PARIS