For years I keep on thinking and writing about the same old things. About changes and their circumstances and impacts on our life and self. How they determine the course of life and their interrelated random encounters and these experiences we gain over time that make us the individual person we are.
And we all struggle sometimes. We all have burdens to bear and times whose memories we would most like to forget. But what if fate strikes and you slowly break apart? When you lose your hope and trust and life’s getting darker? How to turn on the light again?
This is what my novel is about. From traumatic events to repression, emotional abuse, loss of confidence and nervous breakdown. About the fight against one’s own mind and grueling therapy. About what your environment has to do with it and what it takes to find your way out of hell.
I’m writing about my own experiences, transforming them into fiction to find the objective view for final release. I’ve known for long that I have to write about these things in order to finally conclude and process. But it’s not easy to write about the scars of your soul. I struggle a lot to really get into the writing of this novel because it’s already like torture to confront myself with these memories. I don’t want to write about what hurts. I’m afraid to go through this dark time again. It took me more than seven years and all of my energy to find myself and my way back into life. I make my wounds bleed again. But I know I have to write down my own story, using the view of narration. I know I have to share what I’ve learned through all of this. I know I need to do this, not just for myself but mostly to bring awareness to things people don’t talk about.
This month, eight years ago I got traumatized by a stroke of faith. Not the first I had to experience, but this time it was a fundamental shock and change of my life and myself. It was a turning point. Of course I thought a lot about it this month, not just because it’s the beginning of my novel. But since the weather was just as hot back then and the World Cup has also started, I got pulled down by the memories. It wasn’t like being depressive, it just seems like I can’t find a beginning of letting go. Actually, I can’t explain what’s going on with me recently. It’s like I know it’s inside of me but it won’t come out. Do I force it too much? Do I put too much pressure on myself by wanting to fix the broken with perfect narration? There’s nothing like perfection. There’s nothing like madness. There’s just me, struggling to try to turn my life into something better.
I fell down and down and down to the ground, over and over again. With every time I tried to stand up again I got hit even harder. I’ve been to this point of creating a new beginning so many times before. But this time is different because I have finally the right inconveniences to fully focus on what I want to do and achieve. Every downfall I’ve experienced made me stronger, every tiny success of this long road made me grow. It’s paradox how you can actually know that everything will be different and yet you can only be aware of the differences and their coincidences afterwards. Only in retrospect, you can understand. Only when time has passed and lessons has been learned, you can start acceptance by finding meaning in it. I’ve felt cursed for a long time after my trauma because my whole life got worse and I got desperate with wondering about the unknown reasons. What have I done to experience these things? But these times are over.
Today I know I had to go through all of this. It made me find my inner self and remember my purpose in life. It’s been cruel and painful to take this path of recovering and self-exploration but it makes me the person that I am today. Matured, empathic, attentive. It took me years to dig deep down to find the light within and I think I just had to remind myself of it again this month. I just came to realize that I need to remember this and the reasons why I started, and not get lost in the shadows of my past. I shouldn’t get lost in overthinking about what happened and rather be grateful for what I’ve learned. Because it’s true that bad experiences strengthen the character and if I wouldn’t have had made these experiences I don’t know if I would have get to know myself or if I would have find back to my passions and obviously, I wouldn’t have this story to tell.
I will write this novel.