Processing pain

I've never identified with Eeyore. While I feel for him and always hope I'll get to see him having a good day, his negativity grates on me.

My parents raised my sisters and me with an appreciation for empowering oneself and rising above any difficult situation (both of them are political refugees and lost everything only to adapt and rebuild in three countries).

Which is why I hope that those of you who know me can appreciate the distinction between my self and my blog. Scanning the list of titles to prompt my memory of posts, I realize there's a lot on here that's sad, bordering on angry, and working from being victimized to becoming a survivor. I've used this space as a way of reclaiming my voice through the haze of disorientation and pain in the wake of major life changes. I've also dedicated a lot of real estate to domestic violence for healing purposes but also in hopes of raising awareness on an issue that is often kept safely in the shadows with justifications like "It's personal," or "It's just between them." The truth is it's a public issue and it's between all of us because on many levels our society permits it (and will continue to do so until more dialogue and ownership takes place). [dismounting soapbox]

It can be uncomfortable to face the rawness in these situations and disconcerting to see someone's heart laid bare (unless you're an artist who strives to do that as well), but I hope that you'll continue to take this journey with me. If you know me, I hope that you'll also set these soulful struggles within the greater picture of who you know me to be. If you don't know me, well, I hope that my writings resonate and move you on some level. If they give you greater clarity on some situation in your life, I would consider my time on earth a success.

I will continue to write through the process of healing, and embracing the transformative effect of pain. Looking back at legendary artists' lives, I can't help but notice that few, if any, led easy, happy lives. But they found solace in their pain with the opportunity to channel that into self-expression and into leaving some kind of legacy (although most died before earning the public's appreciation).  Studying their lives has motivated me not to run from the painful moments but to surrender to them instead.

"I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness, and the willingness to remain vulnerable."  (--Anne Morrow Lindbergh)

The journey has begun!

Creating a cybercorner for myself is no insignificant feat. I have a few friends to thank for encouraging and challenging me to break out of the protective shell of privacy I've hid in all these years. Inertia and fear have kept me rooted in the mentality, up to this point, that I write, but without risk of baring my soul to the world. But, as any artist who's been broken along life's path knows, perhaps the most frightening feeling is closure of one's expressive outlet and creative censorship.

A friend tonight put into clarity a question I've wrestled with since entering this period of artistic dryness and apparent 'voicelessness.'

"You can't ever be disconnected from your voice -- even in real life," he reassured me. "When a boy's voice gets deeper, he's not disconnected from his voice; it's just changing. (The) writing voice is the same. It may feel disconnected but its just changing, like everything else. Everything and (every)one evolves and feels lost while evolving."

Here's to the growth journey -- personally, professionally, and artistically -- of embracing my evolution. From shy writer to empowered artist, are you in?