Gifts come in unexpected wrappers. I doubt she suspected her post would be perceived that way, but when Georgia from the beautiful blog Person on the Page wrote about personal nonfiction a few weeks ago, referencing “Body Work” by Melissa Febos, she bestowed a gift upon me. The whole post was a treat, but Georgia’s concluding words, her last two lines, stick with me, still:
“Don’t shy away from telling your story. Keep writing.”
Writing about my mom in “Surviving Sue” was difficult. The exposure that comes from peeling back the veneer, revealing the murky bits – sometimes seen, often avoided – required courage in the writing but no less bravery now that the book exists with any/all eyes upon her. And me.
For a modest fee, whether purchasing the eBook or the paperback, the mush and madness is available to all. Voyeurs? Some, perhaps. Folks I’ve known in various contexts – professional and personal. The curious? Drawn in by the sub-title hints that “Surviving Sue” will be heavy…sometimes dark. Seldom will the topic of addiction and mental health trigger glimpses of joyousness. 😉 Some expectation of heft is in the offing. Buyer beware…
Some, I’ve found, want to draw comparisons. Not in a ‘who had it worse’ contest but I get it. Given the broad range of human experiences and the myriad ways in which mental health and substance abuse are intertwined, I think it’s natural – expected, even – to wonder about “Vicki’s story” and how it might compare to hard knocks others have taken.
Some want to sympathize and empathize and offer support, which I love. Others might wonder what they may have done differently, had they lived my life. Either in the living or the telling…especially, perhaps, in response to the vignettes of physical abuse and emotional, mental anguish.
Still other readers are on deck to consider the full arc. The mechanics. The story itself. Now that I’ve read it all, is it a ‘story well-told’? Others have follow-up questions…queries about incidents and people…wondering about bits left unsaid. Questions about relationships and connections that I touched on with brevity…perhaps intentionally? Perhaps not.
All the input – all the feedback – is wondrous, prompting on-going reflection. I realize I’ve had loads of time to consider, relive, lament, and occasionally hide from the shadowy bits of my life with Sue. I think of it this way. When we’re in a dark theatre, our eyes adjust. It might take a few minutes but that first rush of ‘whoa’, I need to find my footing, lest I lose my popcorn, is startling.
We tread lightly in the darkness – on the lookout for obstacles and potential collisions because we’re thrown off. Before long, our eyes adjust and cat-like, we see everything we need to. But those first few moments? They can be scary.
Maybe the feeling is more akin to a wild ride at a theme park. You know it’s gonna be intense when you climb, climb, climb – in the dark – reaching an apex with no sense of what might come next. A big drop off, a quick and gravity-defying twist? You don’t know for sure, so you bear down. Just a little. All because the absence of light told you to buckle up and prepare. Something’s coming.
Reading about Sue? It might be analogous to dark theaters, scary rollercoasters. But I’ve been in and out of that same movie. I was there when it was filmed. No surprises. I can handle the dimness. Same for the unpredictable, black-out rollercoaster rides…tunnels to nowhere. I know when and where the bottom falls out and when to pitch to the left…and then the right. I know the ride. Which brings me to this…my all-time favorite line, stolen from Shakespeare’s Macbeth but lovingly adopted by Ray Bradbury:
“By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.”
Advantage? Vicki. I’ve seen the wickedness and knew…the source. As readers wind their way into “Surviving Sue” they might be unprepared as the story unfolds. More than anything to readers new and those who’ve taken the trip already? Thank you. Thank you so much for trusting me – even though you have no particular reason to do so.
Thank you for the lovely reviews here on the “Surviving Sue” page and on Amazon. Writing this story…writing about family…is hard. Reading? It might be difficult, too, but I hope the resiliency threads will help guide you through. They’re an important part of my story; how I found the light and maintained my sense of self with wholehearted gratitude.
I’m still reading…and re-reading Georgia’s recommended book by Melissa Febos. There are touchstone nuggets throughout that speak to me. None more so than this:
“We are telling the stories that no one else can tell, and we are giving this proof of our survival to each other.” (p. 27)
With gratitude and love,
Vicki ❤
Victoria Ponders 
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