Redeemed by Writing
Today I am grateful for working arms that allow me to reach that itchy area to scratch on my back. I am also grateful for the writing inspiration that came yesterday.
I have a few more thoughts on Domenica Ruta. There is certainly plenty of pain in her writing, but she also has humor and hope. It may seem like slim humor and sparing hope at times, but isn't that sometimes the best we can get? There is also a redemptive quality to her writing. She moves forward, she leaves the dysfunction of her mother's home and life, she faces her own alcoholism. And all the while she keeps writing.
Writing has saved me. I bet if I could ask Domenica Ruta about it, she might say the same thing.
One of my favorite parts of the book is when she writes about her first recollection of the place writing would have in her life, though she could only do that in hindsight.
She was about 10 years old when she came in from outside, as her eyes adjusted to the scene in front of her, she sees her stepmother napping with her baby sister on the couch. Her stepmother is on her back with her hands behind her head. Her baby sister is on her mom's stomach in the same pose. This is what Ruta writes next:
"I looked at the shape of their bodies, one on top of the other, and whispered a single word: 'Echo.' It wasn't until much later that I understood what had happened that day. Inside me was someone new waiting to be born, not a baby, like my sister, but a future version of me, a grown-up, someone who would devote her life to describing such moments in time. This was her first word." (p. 53)
Writing definitely helped me find that future version of myself too, and helped me find it before I killed myself with alcohol and self-hatred. I am forever grateful for the role writing has had in my life.
I have a few more thoughts on Domenica Ruta. There is certainly plenty of pain in her writing, but she also has humor and hope. It may seem like slim humor and sparing hope at times, but isn't that sometimes the best we can get? There is also a redemptive quality to her writing. She moves forward, she leaves the dysfunction of her mother's home and life, she faces her own alcoholism. And all the while she keeps writing.
Writing has saved me. I bet if I could ask Domenica Ruta about it, she might say the same thing.
One of my favorite parts of the book is when she writes about her first recollection of the place writing would have in her life, though she could only do that in hindsight.
She was about 10 years old when she came in from outside, as her eyes adjusted to the scene in front of her, she sees her stepmother napping with her baby sister on the couch. Her stepmother is on her back with her hands behind her head. Her baby sister is on her mom's stomach in the same pose. This is what Ruta writes next:
"I looked at the shape of their bodies, one on top of the other, and whispered a single word: 'Echo.' It wasn't until much later that I understood what had happened that day. Inside me was someone new waiting to be born, not a baby, like my sister, but a future version of me, a grown-up, someone who would devote her life to describing such moments in time. This was her first word." (p. 53)
Writing definitely helped me find that future version of myself too, and helped me find it before I killed myself with alcohol and self-hatred. I am forever grateful for the role writing has had in my life.
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