Author, heal thyself… the pain of unmasking my family’s tragedy.
Writing a memoir about mental illness, suicide, alcoholism and poverty has changed me already. I’m not the same person I was 15 months ago, when I first decided to open myself up and share our family story publicly. Now that I am organizing the writing to see what it will turn into, I’m uncovering moments of truth along the way. This is one of them.
Originally written December 2019
I decided to take on this project almost two months ago. At the time, it was all passion, and my heart was pulling me forward. I feel like God has tapped me on my shoulder about the fact that I’ve been hiding and not willing to talk about my personal experience.
But I’m admitting today that I am struggling. I have written a lot about my life, but it’s very odd for me. I’ve grown up learning not to be boastful, and to support other people. That’s what I’ve done my entire life, so the idea of writing an autobiography feels so foreign to me. At this point, I have 57 pages of words, about 28,000 words, which is no small feat. Sitting down to write every day in an unstructured way has been cathartic and has cracked open my heart to unearth things I’ve not dealt with in years.
But now I’m starting to second guess myself.
Though my life has turned out well thus far, and I am so grateful for my journey, it feels odd to talk about myself so much. I had the idea of working on shifting perspectives between me and Mommy, with chapters that start with her name and my name. Maybe even a chronological walk through life with each of our eyes? I don’t know. We’ll see what unfolds.
But I’m frightened. I am terrified of spending that much time in my mother’s head. I think it will make me very sad. This, again, is why I decided I needed to go to therapy.
I think I’ll start another document entitled, Yvonne, so that I can really get into that space. I’ll copy over all the things I’ve written about her here, including my tribute pieces. I’m wondering if I should interview some people about her: our matriarchs Ednita, Annette, Danise, my stepfather, my father, and some childhood friends who I am in touch with. We have no other elders. And all her brothers are gone. As well as our grandparents and great grands.
I think I can do that. I’m still scared shitless. No kidding. But it’s feeling like if I really want to talk about mental illness, I need to get closer to her in a real way.
What is it that I want to share with this work?
- I want to shine a light on the truth about mental illness, and de-stigmatize it so that more people can get the help they need. I want people to know my mom as a real person, a single mom who was well regarded, fun, brilliant, AND battled the illness for years. I want to humanize the face of mental illness, so that we can have more empathy and less shame.
- I want to show people that with love, community and support, people affected by mental illness can overcome life’s challenges. My sisters and I are each walking our own journeys due to the deep support and unconditional love of our extended family. I am doing well. I have a good life, and I’m grateful for it. We can all be that person to make a difference in someone else’s life.
- I want to discuss the weight that people in my position carry, as “the responsible one” — the complicated mix of strength, acclaim, and burden can be tricky. It can fool you into believing things like, “Well, I turned out ok, didn’t I?”, or “it’s all good, live goes on.” I now know that ignoring the pain and treating the disproportionate weight we carry as normal is harmful to ourselves, and sets up a cycle of self-degradation and feeling like we must earn love, praise and acceptance. The truth is — we are already enough. For others who bear this same complex reality, I encourage you to release the weight and live a more joyous and free life.
- I want to talk about poverty, and how people who struggle in life need support, and how that shows up for people like me and my sisters. These days people are so prone to dismiss people who have less in life. The cruel policies that have been put forth by the Trump administration completely dishonor and overlook people who need help. I want to put a face on the children of poverty as well, and debunk the myth of us being worthless or not having a future. There are plenty of brilliant people who have overcome meager beginnings, and I am personally offended whenever someone tries to cast a whole section of society aside.
Today as I look at this writing, I see how far I’ve come… and how far I have to go. Sharing this early narrative is an important part of why I started this blog. I don’t want the book to be a discrete project, but part of a continuum of a dialogue that can begin today.
This is also an invitation to anyone who is also working on this issues. I would love to connect and see how I can support your work and build community. We are stronger together.
Trina Ramsey is an executive coach, author, and nonprofit fundraiser. She launched the Just Do You Institute for Women’s Empowerment for women over 40 who are ready to live on their own terms. Learn more at justdoyouinstitute.com
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1–800–273–8255