by Lori Schafer
On November 7th, my first book was released. It’s a memoir entitled On Hearing of My Mother's Death Six Years After It Happened, and it commemorates my terrifying adolescent experience of my mother’s psychosis.
Although the book is short, I confess that I had a horrible time writing it. The memories it contains are of the sort that would be better left forever buried, as my mother is now. I don’t really need to dwell upon that era of terror and trauma, on the powerlessness I felt over being a teenager in the strangling grip of a violent and unpredictable parent. I don’t need to remember the many months I spent living in my car, a teenage runaway, or the many weeks I went without food, or my ever-present fear that Mom would still come to find me or have me hauled forcibly home.
No, I took no pleasure in reliving that part of my past. But the book’s release has held one surprising and wonderful consequence: readers congratulating me on my courage in sharing my story.
I don’t deserve their accolades. It isn’t bravery if you don’t know that you’re supposed to be afraid.
Why should I be afraid to share my story? I was an innocent sixteen-year-old girl; I did nothing wrong. Neither, for that matter, did my mother. We were victims, both of us, victims of a disease that took control over both of our lives. Courage shouldn't have to enter into the equation.
It’s true that it’s a deeply personal memoir. It’s true that there is stigma associated with mental illness, and that few people would care to admit to having a close relative who had one. But what is even more true is that women, down through the ages, have been made to feel shame for being victims.
No one wants to admit that they’ve been physically or emotionally abused. No one wants to admit that they’re hurting, or in pain. No one wants to seek help even when they desperately need it. Why should the guiltless be shamed into silence while the guilty go unpunished? Why should children have to suffer because adults fear to speak?
Nearly every day since I began promoting my book, people have approached me online, hinting at stories of their own that they might like to tell, about mental illness, about child abuse, about dysfunctional family relationships. They aren't quite courageous enough to share their pain – but they're coming closer. Seeing a story like mine makes them think that perhaps they could indeed share it – that there might be others sitting in silence who might like to read it.
If enough of us continue to share our stories, then perhaps one day courage won’t have to be a requirement for telling a truth. And it makes me very proud to be playing a part in breaking down that shameful barrier between speaking and silence.
* * *
Lori Schafer is a writer of serious prose and humorous erotica and romance. Her short stories, flash fiction, and essays have appeared in numerous print and online publications, and her first book, a memoir entitled On Hearing of My Mother's Death Six Years After It Happened: A Daughter's Memoir of Mental Illness, was released in November 2014. Her first two novels, My Life with Michael: A Story of Sex and Beer for the Middle-Aged and Just the Three of Us: An Erotic Romantic Comedy for the Commitment-Challenged will be released in April 2015. You can learn more about Lori and her forthcoming projects by visiting her website at http://lorilschafer.com/.
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Would you like to participate in Friday "Speak Out!"? Email your short posts (under 500 words) about women and writing to: marcia[at]wow-womenonwriting[dot]com for consideration. We look forward to hearing from you!
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On November 7th, my first book was released. It’s a memoir entitled On Hearing of My Mother's Death Six Years After It Happened, and it commemorates my terrifying adolescent experience of my mother’s psychosis.
Although the book is short, I confess that I had a horrible time writing it. The memories it contains are of the sort that would be better left forever buried, as my mother is now. I don’t really need to dwell upon that era of terror and trauma, on the powerlessness I felt over being a teenager in the strangling grip of a violent and unpredictable parent. I don’t need to remember the many months I spent living in my car, a teenage runaway, or the many weeks I went without food, or my ever-present fear that Mom would still come to find me or have me hauled forcibly home.
No, I took no pleasure in reliving that part of my past. But the book’s release has held one surprising and wonderful consequence: readers congratulating me on my courage in sharing my story.
I don’t deserve their accolades. It isn’t bravery if you don’t know that you’re supposed to be afraid.
Why should I be afraid to share my story? I was an innocent sixteen-year-old girl; I did nothing wrong. Neither, for that matter, did my mother. We were victims, both of us, victims of a disease that took control over both of our lives. Courage shouldn't have to enter into the equation.
It’s true that it’s a deeply personal memoir. It’s true that there is stigma associated with mental illness, and that few people would care to admit to having a close relative who had one. But what is even more true is that women, down through the ages, have been made to feel shame for being victims.
No one wants to admit that they’ve been physically or emotionally abused. No one wants to admit that they’re hurting, or in pain. No one wants to seek help even when they desperately need it. Why should the guiltless be shamed into silence while the guilty go unpunished? Why should children have to suffer because adults fear to speak?
Nearly every day since I began promoting my book, people have approached me online, hinting at stories of their own that they might like to tell, about mental illness, about child abuse, about dysfunctional family relationships. They aren't quite courageous enough to share their pain – but they're coming closer. Seeing a story like mine makes them think that perhaps they could indeed share it – that there might be others sitting in silence who might like to read it.
If enough of us continue to share our stories, then perhaps one day courage won’t have to be a requirement for telling a truth. And it makes me very proud to be playing a part in breaking down that shameful barrier between speaking and silence.
* * *
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Would you like to participate in Friday "Speak Out!"? Email your short posts (under 500 words) about women and writing to: marcia[at]wow-womenonwriting[dot]com for consideration. We look forward to hearing from you!
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