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Learning to let go of the stories we tell about ourselves
“You should be kinder to yourself.” Sarah sipped her tea and set it down. “You don’t you see yourself objectively.”
For the past hour, Sarah and I had dissected the rough draft of my new memoir. Even though Sarah knew some of the story from watching me live it, my stomach was knotted in anticipation of her reaction. After all, I confessed feelings and thoughts in my book that I hadn’t shared with anyone.
“I’m objective,” I replied. “It’s been years, and I’ve had enough time to sort through everything.”
“Have you?” She raised her eyebrows. “Because from what I see, you blame yourself for everything.”
From the numerous memoir classes I had taken, I learned that creating a powerful memoir required time and distance from the rawness of what took place. A memoir writer, I repeatedly heard, needs objectivity to create an authentic recounting, and I had five to ten years between the events I had written about.
Sarah tapped the paper-clipped stack of papers on the table. “You give everyone a pass but yourself.”
I shrugged. “It’s all true, though,” I said. “I did all of it, and I want to own it.”
