For years my life was too chaotic to even think about writing – when you’re bouncing from crisis to crisis so hard that you’ve moved 14 times in six years, it’s hard to focus long enough to write a cover letter for your resume, much less plan and write an entire book.
Eventually, my life stabilized and I started thinking about the project again. I even bought a book on writing memoir in 2011. My then-husband scoffed when I posted about it on an email group we both belonged to.
“You’re just fishing for compliments,” he said. “You only did that because you wanted everyone to tell you what a great writer you are. You can write it if you want, but no one will ever read it.”
I shelved the project again.
In 2012, I walked away from the narcissist and began repairing the damage he’d done to my self-esteem. I submitted a few pieces to xoJane, which they published. One of them was even picked up by Reader’s Digest for their print edition. Maybe it was time to write?
I sat down at my computer in 2014 and was quickly overwhelmed. I bought some index cards and tried to make a timeline, but there was just so much that I couldn’t keep it straight. The project went back on the shelf.
It stayed there for four years. In the meantime, I met an incredible man who thought I was incredible, too. From the beginning, Victor was enthusiastic about my writing and about my memoir. I started wondering if maybe I could really do it this time.