Someone to Swim With

You know, friends...

I've been dabbling in — and struggling through — some rare and joyful times even flowing with this writing thing for many years. Weekends reserved for the muse, I've missed Sunday brunch (and, ahem, church) for decades.

But that mimosa and eggs Benedict sacrifice just paid off.

My essay — with swatches cut from my memoir — just published in my dream lit-mag, The Rumpus. I got to work with editor Roxane Gay, a writing hero of mine and author of Bad Feminist. What an honor. She helped me sharpen the piece for publication.

And now that it's out — what a relief - to release secrets I've bottled up for a lifetime.

Even more satisfying: the possibility that my story may touch someone who's been hurt — who's been led to believe they're to blame for things that happened when they were young and vulnerable.

I don't say this in the essay, because it's a story. But I'm saying it to you now:

The shame is not yours to carry. You did nothing wrong. You are not alone.

"Someone to Swim With" is about how hard it can be to break the cycle of unworthy. How important it is to stand up and speak for yourself. How healing it is to swim out of the shadows and into the light.

Here’s a glimpse…

Now                      

It’s a warm September day down on the banks of the Swannanoa River, when I first encounter the guitar man. We don’t exactly meet. But, sunning myself on a rock, I hear music floating in the air. I sit up and catch a glimpse of him, downriver, seated on a log with two friends, six legs dangling over the water, someone’s fingers strumming, someone’s voice audible over the currents’ rush.

Instantly, I feel a tug in my chest. I want to know those musical men. Around them, the water seems to sparkle and dance to their rhythm. 

The page, over the years, has held my sadness and my rage, my joy and my hope. The page doesn’t judge – the page doesn’t turn away – the page speaks harsh truth (in an artful way).

Then

I am fifteen going on sixteen. It is well-past midnight. Reclined on the sofa bed of the beach bungalow, beneath the thin sheet, butterflies swirl in my sunburned stomach as my music teacher, the maestro bends over, his blue eyes staring into me. The foghorn blares. He leans closer, scent of wine on his breath, as his mustached lip touches my mouth, and one thousand new sensations ricochet like pinballs inside me.

Things happen – sometimes terrible things. You can’t change the past – but you can redeem it for prizes better than ones at the Playland Arcade – your voice in the world!

Anne Lamont in Bird by Bird says it well: “You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”

Let's engage, friends. Here are three invitations...

#1 Read → "Someone to Swim With" and share your thoughts. Follow the pop-up on my homepage to The Rumpus. https://www.seechangeconsulting.com/. Thanks for being a witness.

#2 Come Out → To The Inner Loop Reading Series, Tuesday June 23 at Shaw's Tavern, and hear me read. Food and drink specials and a host of kickass DMV writers. Free. Register:   https://www.eventbrite.com/e/the-inner-loops-june-reading-tickets-1988352564044?aff=oddtdtcreator&keep_tld=true

#3 Freewrite → What stories do you hold? What memories — joyful or difficult — want to be released? Where are your shadows and where is the light? Let the muse guide you.