Writing the Story You Needed When You Were Younger

It's no secret that I've struggled with mental health. Like. A lot. It's also no secret that the book I'm writing tackles one young person's experience with mental health. Specifically, an experience that resembles something like my own.

Except, of course, that this is a work of fiction, so my main character is being gifted with the knowledge and comfort that I so desperately needed when I was in her shoes - knowledge and comfort that took me years and years to gain in the real world.

And let me tell you, writing a story that you needed to read when you were younger is a wild, tumultuous, heartbreaking, and fulfilling ride!

I remember Who I Was

This probably goes without saying but to write a story about a past experience, one does need to remember the events in great detail.

And when the events in questions are, shall we say, unpleasant, the remembering is also unpleasant.

Now I should mention here that I have done a lot of work on my own mental health in the intervening time. Like, a ton of work. As such, I'm not putting myself at risk by reminiscing on these events.

That work also puts the events in perspective and distances them from the present moment. Which gives it's own light to remembering.

I remember the person I was. I remember what I was struggling with. I remember how it felt.

But despite the distance, it still hurts in a different kind of way - it's hurts to think that I was hurting that deeply for that long.

I See How Much I've Grown

Now, that said, it's not all doom and gloom.

Nothing in this world explains to you how much you've grown like looking back at where you've come from.

And holy snood, I have come a long way!

To say I am a different person than I used to be would be like calling comparing a one story single family house to the Empire State Building.

I remember how much I searched for answers. I remember scouring ted talks and book stores, looking for a sliver of reason to fight back.

And now I see how much work I've put into my own growth. I see every ounce of sweat and tears - and there was a lot - to get me to a place of comfort and happiness.

And NOTHING makes me more proud of my own story.

What If It Finds It's Audience?

This project has always been a selfish one.

I am writing this story for me, first and foremost. I have already experienced so much healing and catharsis from imagining, in detail, how differently things could have turned out.

That said, there have many moments in this project's journey when I thought about keeping this a personal project, and let go of the idea of releasing it.

What if I'm the only one could benefit from this story? What if it will only matter to me?

And yet, I continue writing.

I know there are others that are hurting in ways similar to my own story. So what if my story finds those people? And what if it matters to them? And what if it's the story that changes a mind? Or makes someone feel heard? Or less alone?

What if...? What if I should keep writing?

So...

Writing the story I needed to read when I was younger - one with an honest look at the things I was struggling with, that offers hope in hopeless times, but without meaningless platitudes or feeling trite - has been and continues to be one hell of a journey.

A journey I am so thankful to be on.