Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Who am I kidding

I'm no writer. I'm a memoirist of death.

Trauma. Grief.

Poetry, even journaling is kicking my ass. And as I feel better, I simultaneously feel worse. Living the cliche, the better I feel psychologically, the farther I am from my boys.  The grief becomes easier to carry, as I tell people, in truth, it's because they are farther and farther away. 


Michele said...

I keep trying to write poetry again, but I can't. Nothing comes out and I'll find that I've stared at a page for hours... to no avail...

erica said...

Sue, I'm so sorry. I hate this, too, that healing seems to come not just with time, but with distance.

Mrs. Spit said...

I think it is worth it to be only a memorist of death. Those to are words that need to be spoken. It's not about telling a great story, it's about telling your story.

Anonymous said...

You are now, and always have been, a writer.

"They" always say to write what you know. And sadly, trauma... grief... death... this is what you know best right now. How I wish that could be different for you.

But know that whatever thoughts and words you are able to put down have tremendous value.

They are yours.