Of Narrative, Scenes of a Life, and Brimming With Fear …

https://www.flickr.com/photos/degan/419427035/in/photolist-D4F3B-sd5hp-9mdnRz-bDrpbh-91kvGP-5V6ip3-5V1V5a-5V1V4c-6nEWdo-sdkvD-ifTtyi-7FsgSt-7FwbwN-7FsgVk-PqQEX-7FsgTv-8RAiKN-8RAijG-8Rxcwi-sd5hg-sdb1E-4tPtu4-7Gftxc-cmk6Ay-8RAhr3-dLMEmK-dLMFze-dU5jrx-9Sind4-7jMZxy-4FYdCt-4tTvX3-4YCKEE-7xfALc-dj1nuY-dj1nyJ-dj1neA-dj1nnf-dj1nC7-dj1pcT-dj1niU-dj1oVT-dj1psp-rUVy1-rUVxX-rUVxU-bzqx9r-8sCKXE-jYZAhY-c8XfrN

“the conscious narrative of existence”

In that a memoir, and the structure of any narrative, consists of scenes, I must write various scenes of my life, those that most depict my suffering for which I offer forgiveness and hold compassion for my mother.

This is hard.

Not simply because I am writing of my mother, and about myself. The challenge lies in my lack of certainty, the ambiguity of my mother’s actions, and thus my ambivalence.

Perhaps what I see and remember is not the way events actually unfolded. Perhaps my child self views things immaturely. Perhaps I have not matured to the point of understanding the completeness of my mother’s intent.

And yet there remain my emotions, the feelings of loss and emptiness, questioning, “Why have me if you could not love me?” I asked that one time of my mother and she slapped me.

Why do I declare the emotional quality of my life so bad? Others had suffered worse.

Yes. And I fear they were able to endure underpinned and supported by their mother’s love, something with which I am not quite familiar.

The scenes of my life are not pretty, at least not the ones that come to mind.

While praying this morning I recollected a moment in time that left me filled with shame.

I was a girl scout, having earned all my badges. The ceremony wherein I would present them took place one night at my church.

The girls who were scouts along with me were jealous and filled with envy. Little did they know what I had to endure.

In many ways they reminded me much of my mother.

I entered the social hall that evening filled with the other scouts and their mothers, scared and afraid. Brimming with fear, I was crying.

__________________________________

Share

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

2 Responses to “Of Narrative, Scenes of a Life, and Brimming With Fear …”

  1. Jerry Waxler Says:
    August 27th, 2014 at 2:22 am

    The suffering of children is so real at the time, and then when we outgrow it, we try to forget and move on. Forgetting it robs us of our humanity. Getting back in touch with it, from within the child’s mind awakens fear but also offers a chance to reach out with support. Fear of not being loved awakens love! Thank you for sharing your fear, because it gave me the pleasure of experiencing compassion.

    Best wishes,
    Jerry Waxler
    Author of Memoir Revolution
    Jerry Waxler´s last blog post ..Wisdom Born in One Memoir Inspires a Second

  2. Profile photo of Anjuelle Floyd Anjuelle Floyd Says:
    August 27th, 2014 at 8:11 pm

    Thanks so much for such a wonderful and heartfelt comment. I appreciate your visit to my website, but taking the time to leave a message.
    Peace and blessing to you and yours. 🙂

Leave a Reply

CommentLuv badge

Table of Contents

Archives

WIDGET FOR AUTHOR’S BOOK COVER/DIRECT LINK TO WHERE THE BOOK IS PURCHASED

Photobucket

Fav Blogs

Blogger Zoom

Readers Favorite – Vote for THE HOUSE


CLICK HERE TO VOTE

Readers' Favorite recognized The House in 2 of its 2011 categories Honorable in the Genre of Christian Fiction AND Finalist in the Genre of Dramatic Fiction

Sign-up for Mailing List

Add Your Email Address:
Marquee Powered By Know How Media.
Skip to toolbar