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When sharing your story takes an emotional toll
I just finished reading The Memoir Project: A Thoroughly Non-Standardized Text for Writing and Life by Marion Roach Smith. Have you ever read a book that conveys exactly what you feel about a topic but aren’t able to articulate yourself? The writer says everything perfectly — better than you could ever say it? That was Smith’s book for me when it came to her discussion of some of the emotional aspects of writing.
Smith provides tips and strategies for memoir writing (the specifics are for another post). She recognizes that writers are emotionally involved in what we write, particularly when it comes to making cuts. It can be difficult to remove parts of our story that are important to us. It can also be difficult to write about our experiences. After all, we are writing about our lives, and we are emotionally invested in what we live through.
I found myself struggling this week with a different emotional aspect of memoir writing than what Smith describes. I’ve searched for an accurate way to communicate this feeling, a consequence of writing I can only call emotional fatigue. Not from the act of writing itself — no. What I’ve been feeling, I think, is the aftermath.
Last week, I wrote a post about my sister, Brittany, who passed away when I was nine and she was seven — a story I sat on for two months before getting it down on the page. I took notes, recorded bits and pieces of memories, and stayed in the planning stage until I felt I had enough for the story I wanted to tell.
Then I wrote the draft. It was not difficult to write. In fact, when I started writing, the words just flowed. It was like the story wrote itself. I didn’t come close to capturing everything that I want to capture about Brittany, but I know that one day I will write more. For now, it is enough.
I shared the draft with my parents first. I wanted them to read Brittany’s story before anybody else. I found myself hesitating to send them the link to the draft. What if I didn’t remember things right? What if it makes them sad? What if…?
But I did send it, and then I waited. Both of my parents thanked me for sharing it. My mom told me that she felt like she was there, that she could see Brittany again through the words I used to describe her. My dad said he enjoyed seeing my sister as I remember her.
Do you know what I did then? I cried.
I also shared the draft with my siblings. My oldest brother responded almost immediately. He told me that since he was so young when Brittany died (he was five), reading the story helped him remember her more clearly. The older he gets, he remarked, the more his memories fade. My sister told me that since she was too young to remember Brittany, the story helped her feel closer to our sister, and she was thankful for the experience to get to know Brittany through my memories.
Then I cried.
After I clicked “Publish,” I shared the post with my friends and family members on Facebook, and there was an outpouring of thanks and encouragement. I also received heartfelt comments from some readers on Medium.
I am sure you know what I’m going to say next — I cried.
I don’t cry easily (really, I don’t). But I cried several times this past week. Sharing Brittany’s story — the draft and then the published post — was deeply emotional for me. And it was an emotional response I did not anticipate and was not prepared for.
Maybe it’s because for the first time in my life, I’m writing regularly. Or because for the first time in my life, I’m writing about experiences that are personal. I am still figuring out how to navigate the emotional waves of writing memoir pieces.
But, fellow writers, let me tell you — this week I feel exhausted. Wiped. Out.
I have been trying to get it together. I came up with ideas while I read Smith’s book — I have a whole list jotted down on a blank page in the back of the book. But this week? I’m just not ready. I have sat down every day to write, but the words have not been there. When I sat down to write today, this post is what came out.
I know I am not alone in this emotional reaction to sharing personal stories. Have you experienced the emotional toll of writing? If so, how have you dealt with it? I would love to hear from you.
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