Writing Your Trauma Story: Yep, It’s Hard
Why in the world would you want to write the story of an assault that happened to you?
Wouldn’t it be better if you didn’t write or talk about it?
I’ve kept it quiet for all these years, why write it now?
Why dig up that stuff again?
I’ll just cry, and I don’t have the time to break down!
I’ll just journal like I’ve been doing for years.
Janet: When you do decide to write, and you follow us, you know we’ll help you edit your piece. It’s what we do! But even with our pledge to care for you and your piece, we know it’s hard. It’s a battlefield we seem destined to travel when telling what happened. If you write it, what will my daughters, husband, mother, friends, and co-workers think? Maybe they will listen and, maybe they won’t believe you. Maybe there will be retaliation. You’ll have to answer questions, not the least of which are yours, about yourself, your behavior, your actions, your choices. By the time you’re done, you may be punished for telling.
But for me – what I put on the line is my own ability to tell the truth with my daughters.
What if they ask a question? I know I’m ready to answer with the context of why I started this project with Marie. How I learned to write my story, how it turned into a poem that was published, how I can stand separate from the story.
It’s on a page and I’m standing here asking you to write yours!
Marie: Let’s take a second to understand what your story might do in the world. If you want the option of publishing your story, those who read it will feel it’s impact. The unique details may trigger a memory, an understanding. It could become a catalyst for change, and large or small, these changes add up. Your story might educate someone or inspire enough anger for someone else to speak out, to be fierce brave and loud about it.
Janet: Writing stories about your trauma is helpful. The process can begin a transition toward healing, helping you let go of negative emotions you may still hang on to about the event (even the anger, guilt, and resentment you may not realize is there.) Coming to terms with the past allows you to move forward in life. Freud and Oprah agree!
If you are anything like me, my journals read as if a faucet of grievance was turned on, full force. When I finally took the story into a writing class, something emerged, much better than my journals. I found some strength, some grit that helped me stand firm as I wrote new stories of my life at work and at home.
Marie: Our stories are surprisingly, horribly commonplace. They should not be. It’s shocking when we realize how many people walk around with fear and anxiety when they walk through a parking lot, or have been ruffied, or have experienced forcible physical attention, or have lost jobs for refusal of sexual ‘favors’ – the list goes on. When we write about these experiences, we bring them out, make them visible. The importance of this cannot be overstated.
Janet: We’ve written trauma and taught other writers how to write about theirs. We’ve learned how we need to have an engaging back story to our trauma. Give it some location, temperature, light, the smell of rain. Then add all the action, why are you there, what were you doing. Here’s a great example:
From “Late Night Concerto” – EP Lazano
I am awakened again by my neighbors’ marital cacophony. The cello, low and menacing, repeats the same arrabiató tirade while the violin pierces the night with staccato shrieks as her wood splinters against the wall.
We can imagine an apartment building, late at night. The subject is the writer, the ears of the piece and we join her in worry. Great image and we get the scene in 35 words. When we write, we want our readers to feel emotion. When I read Ms. Lazano’s words, I worry about this couple. I want to know what happens!
Sometimes writing about a character from the point of view of a storyteller is safer than writing about yourself, the victim. It gives you creative access, so your writing is not just a regurgitation of action but also interesting and readable. That is not easy, it’s hard!
Here’s how S. Lewandowski does it in “The Year is 1991….”
The year is 1991 and she’s crying. Not really sure what the hell is happening, but she feels like hiding. Time seems to run numb, she can’t’ feel anything, she knows this isn’t normal, this feels horrible. It’s all so confusing but nothing to show -there is no bruising. Her mom works all day, while she is left alone.
Ms. Lewandowski puts herself over the action and gives “she” the experience of the trauma. There is a safety net when the main character is other than you.
The book these pieces are in is Our Silent Voice: Break the Silence and it’s available online via Amazon and Barns & Noble.
See how these writers express their trauma, their triumph, and their bravery.
Marie: So, when your words are ready to come out onto the page, this team will respect them, and if you’d like, edit them, and midwife them into the light. Your story will have its impact on the world.
We assume you have questions. Email and ask mpjp@oursilentvoice.com
We have 14 writers who wrote 29 pieces. Most of our writers are people first and have no other goal than to write their story and get it on a page.
We receive pieces of poetry, short essay, and posts. Each submission is read and evaluated. We, Janet and Marie are the final editor’s and may ask that you make changes to your work. So send it in! www.oursilentvoice.com/submit
You’re quiet now. Let us present you as Fierce, Brave, and Loud