Reclaiming the narrative: A Writer’s homecoming

Imagine holding the hand of a younger sibling as you both walk into a crowd. You’re both excited, having finally arrived at the amusement park, the movie theater or store. You smile inwardly, knowing this simple event will bring them so much happiness. Your younger sibling is beaming, simply glad to be there with you. And in a moment, imagine that tiny hand somehow slipping from your own, and the frantic, hysterical fear that you might never find them again.

This is the panic that takes over me when I remember my my estrangement from writing. The memory of something that was so much a part of myself, so fulfilling, and yet I abandoned it. I lost it. At fourteen, I was already pushing the boundaries of my imagination, writing beyond my years and experience.  I was finding my voice and somewhere, suddenly, I became overwhelmed by how life can rush out at you and for a while, I lost track of what made me, Me.

I stopped carrying a journal everywhere I went, then stopped writing altogether.  Instead, I got busy following the formula:  school, nice boyfriends, hard work, playing hard, and more hard work.  More than twenty years later, my life story (like many of ours) had not gone according to plan.  I was older, certainly wiser, but I was alone. The husband and the babies I dreamt and wrote about were still just dreams.  I started to identify myself by my job description.  Christina Bennett. Project Manager.  Certified Scrum Master.  Operations and Technology Solutions Expert…   

I was heartbroken and to combat that, I dove further into my work and a series of extraneous relationships.  My family and friends were always there, but loneliness waits until after you leave your friends and family.  It waits until you come home, needing to to vent or to be held, but the house is dark.  

Stress, like loneliness, also lies in wait. Stress is like the scary movie you had no business watching, it pops into your mind when you are falling asleep.  An email you should have sent.  The fourteen months of “project life” that robbed you of dinner and sleep. The comment you made in a meeting, that you now wish you’d kept to yourself. After the most grueling years in my professional life, I was financially successful, well-liked and respected at work, a beloved worker-bee! I was also diagnosed with a debilitating autoimmune disease that left me bed-ridden for weeks.  I could not walk.  I could not wash my hair. Even after I recovered, I felt barren, wrung-out, and dumb- unable to hold polite conversation without using some workplace idiom. 

My return to writing in 2022 came out of a need to self-soothe.  Not wanting to inundate people with all that I was going through, and frankly, not wanting the noise of their opinions. I was in a period of introspection and I started to journal again.  In those quiet moments when I was letting my body heal, I suddenly found so much joy in working on characters that were already past the point that I was trying to get through.  They had already figured it out and pushed through.  They were already better. This healing process was very cathartic for me. It allowed me to visualize where I wanted to be-my health, my career goals, boundaries with my friends and family, aspirations in my personal life.  It helped me to create plots where the protagonists had already learned the lessons that I was still wading through.   They were no longer floundering.

I wanted to write, not only as an exercise for my healing, but also to connect with all my Sisters out there that are in a space of transformation.  Women who may be puzzling over how to go about that transformation.  Coming back to writing has given me a way to reconcile.

The Dream

The decision to pursue publishing was actually made years ago.  Becoming an Author with a capital-A has been a dream since back before I was writing fan fiction with my two best friends in middle school; before I knew what I was capable of producing.  Then five years ago, I decided to stop treating it like some distant aspirational idea and began sharing my work. I started researching and talking to people who were already published.  Through these conversations, I gained an understanding of the process involved in completing a manuscript; the rejection writers experience, and the responsibility of building their own audience (following) before the book is even out!  

There was no perfect time to start this process.  Just as I was gearing up to launch a new social media channel, my face breaks out in pimples.  I took a few days off to write and my laptop died- literally died - giving a pathetic little mechanical grunt as the screen went black.  Things at work are heating up in preparation for Q1, and all I can think about is my heroine’s backstory.  I’m stealing time to write whenever I can, holed up in a vacant conference room over lunch, trying to get a few lines down.

Kicking off this journey has been thrilling in a way I cannot quite describe.  There have been moments of extreme excitement and high emotion.  I feel overwhelming gratification for being at the polar opposite of where I was at this moment last year. For having found my craft again.  This process has also been rather scary - taking something that has always been personal and making it public.  I am actively fighting imposter syndrome and my introversion in order to cultivate an audience so that my book is not released into the ether. 

I wanted to change my life and connect with women who are doing the same. The the best tool I have had is my creativity and my ability to craft a story.  If I was going to do anything, I was going to write.

I’m ready to say it.  I am a writer.