Reflections While Writing
Writing this book has been challenging. I’ve been taking notes during the process. Here are some.
May 2021 —
I’m feeling quite overwhelmed of late. It’s like I’m stuck in third gear. No one notices because I’m still functioning, just at a slower speed. My sweet spot is fifth gear and I’m far from that. I’m going through my day, taking care of what I have to, but nothing more. Sometimes, if my day is just too open, I slow things down to use up the time. Even if I have time to finish a project, to see it through, I’ll still stop… just so I have something that I have to finish in the future.
July 2021 —
Writing about my childhood, before I moved to NYC that is, was a challenge, but mostly because I realized how intense it really was. It was affirming in many ways that I hadn’t blown things out of proportion, that in fact, it was more than I remembered. But writing about my childhood once I moved to NYC was different. I feel a lot of guilt about that. I say “feel” not “felt” intentionally because I’m not fully past it. I really think it was a combination of loyalty and the fact that I had survived so much before.
Now, in my 50s looking back on my life, I can see a pattern. When I fall into a shitty situation, that quicksand I always feared, I keep myself from disappearing but I also stay in the situation. I stick it out even when I have the opportunity to escape. In NYC, my father unlocked the “cell” door a few times but I never took the bait. It was a combinations of a cult-like brainwashing, Stockholm Syndrome, and a deep-seated fear of my father’s retribution if I ever did leave. So, I bucked up, stayed the course, and endured.
September 2021
Today I finished the chapter I’m calling “Rude Awakening,” in the section “Capture,” which is about when I first moved to NYC with my father. It was a hard chapter to write. So many experiences and memories to sort and organize. The other parts of the book felt like I was writing about someone else while tapping into my own feelings in order to relate. I had to depend on so much evidence to complete the story. But now it’s all me, it’s my memories moving forward. That makes it so much more intense. I feel relieve to have at least one chapter behind me. In writing it, I learned some tools to organize so hopefully they will help me with the next chapters.
The Parent Not the Patient
Earlier this month my son had surgery on his knee, yes his knee, the same area of the body that I have had issues with. Not only that, it was the right knee which is where I’ve had the most surgery. The parallels were staggering for me.
I have had over 25 surgeries in my lifetime, not including oral surgery. That’s a lot of IVs, drowsy shots, x-rays, overnight stays, recovery rooms, blood draws and more. In fact, I spent so much time in the hospital that I became sort of a celebrity. I had an unusual condition as a child, an overdose of vitamin A, so the medical community considered me to be an oddity to be studied. I was broadly welcomed when I was admitted. As an adult, there was the additional fact that I was a mile away during 9/11, which enhanced my celebrity status.
Yet, being admitted to the hospital, or even going for an outpatient procedure was still terrifying because I knew I would be put to sleep. I knew my body would be poked, prodded, or cut into in some form and that brought on panic, sort of an unconscious dread. In anticipation of being in the hospital, my back would involuntarily seize up and I’d have trouble sleeping.
Once in the hospital, I would resign myself to my situation and another emotion would take over. It would begin with a sense of calm, because I had done this so many times before, and grow into a feeling pride and confidence. After all, I was a pro.
So imagine all those feelings arising within you, feelings of fear mixed with confidence, panic mixed with pride, but this time it wasn’t you having the procedure, your panic is misplaced, your pride unwarranted. It was my son who needed the care, it was he that got the attention. I was both nervous because it wasn’t me having the surgery but also a bit deflated because this time, I wasn’t the “star.” What a crazy combination of feelings.
You might think I would be panicked for my son but I wasn’t. Of course, as a mother, there were fleeting thoughts of the danger of any surgery, but I knew in my heart he would be fine. It was a relatively simple arthroscopic surgery. He’s young and strong with a formidable immune system. I knew he would be fine… which he was.
Now, weeks later, he’s nearly recovered. But the parallels continued, from giving him advice on how to walk with crutches, the crutches are almost obsolete now, to going with him to physical therapy. By going I don’t just mean providing transportation, but actually both of us having a physical therapy appointment for the same knee. Many of the exercises were the same. It was a strange position to be in.
In many ways I think it has brought us closer. My son had a tiny taste of the physical struggles I have faced my entire life. I have had to experience what it was like for my own mother to see me go through surgery and not be able to do it for me. It was complex, especially as I navigate my experiences while writing this book.
Handmaidens
June 11, 2021
For a long time I wouldn’t watch The Handmaid’s Tale. I knew it would hit too close to home. My mother started watching it first. She told me about it with great drama. From my past experiences, and the rawness of writing my book, I tend to avoid things that will trigger me. But, at the same time, I knew I had to watch it one day.
Oddly enough, I started watching it once my mother went up north for a while. Or perhaps it wasn’t so odd. Perhaps I needed to do it on my own.
June 12, 2021
At first it was too hard to watch. No surprise really as it depicts such brutality. One doesn’t have to have experienced trauma to find The Handmaid’s Tale difficult to view. So, I would balance out watching one episode with a different show that was lighter in energy. My current favorite is The Mentalist. I realized that I’m often attracted to a similar character dynamic of a very smart, yet deeply flawed, character who with his (usually a man, damn patriarchy) intelligence is able to outsmart the others around him and often for the greater good. My favorite shows: The Mentalist, Elementary (or anything Sherlock Holmes), White Collar, Psych, Life, Person of Interest, House… all have this in common. I think I’m drawn to these characters because I liked to think of myself that way. I grew up so physically limited, in the hospital in traction or out of the hospital in braces, casts, or crutches. My mind was what I could always rely on and developing my mental skills was often all I had time for. But, of course, the mental acuity would come at a cost, hence the flaws in the characters, and that flaw is what would keep them human.
But I digress… Back to The Handmaid’s Tale.
So, while at first I needed to intersperse Handmaid episodes with lighter content, over time, and as the show itself evolved, I started to connect with another aspect of the show, one that was very empowering to women. There’s no question that ALL the women in the show are oppressed in some way. Even the dreadful character of Aunt Lydia had her trauma and pain. Selena is a very interesting character because she’s both the instrument of pain and the receiver of it — the perpetrator and the victim in one. But it’s the ones most oppressed — the handmaids, the marthas, etc. that, in time, truly come to represent the power of women to overcome. That’s what we do.
Now I’m not saying that men don’t overcome things, of course they do, but they are often the ones in power so they exercise that “muscle” far less than women do. Women, on the other hand, face oppression on a daily basis, often from a range of sources, so we learn how to survive, and when we can, to thrive. Think back to a very oppressive time for women, the Victorian age. What was a popular accessory for women back then? Poison rings. They were rings that had a secret compartment where poison could be kept and at the right moment poured into a drink, making a deadly concoction. Women throughout history have found ways to not only navigate the oppression and trauma they were experiencing but ultimate to gain power in a powerless dynamic.
Power within a powerless dynamic. I can relate so much to that. So when June held her ground, when she continued to find rivulets of freedom or power that she could leverage, I felt my heart soar. The show was still very dark, and hard to watch in parts for sure, but it also conveyed the idea of hope against all odds and the idea that even in the darkest of dungeons, there could be a chance to escape.
