My Work in Progress
Week 3. Day 20.
I’ve carried this novel in my heart for two years. I thought I would have written it by now, but I always seem to choke on the words. Because in writing about the most beautiful days of my life, I’m also having to confront the most devastating truth I hoped I would never have to face.
It’s a story made up of hundreds of stories I’ve carried in my heart from far away lands. It’s about abandoning the known in pursuit of your dreams and accomplishing more than you ever hoped for yourself. It’s about how the universe aligns in unexpected ways, particularly when you need it to the most. These are stories about how small the world becomes when we open our hearts. About the people we meet in passing who have the ability to change your life. It’s about how love carries us through the most trying moments. How true love never fails.
This is also a book about experiencing trauma in a foreign country as a solo female traveler. The repercussions. The fear. the anger. The sadness. The self punishment. It’s about compartmentalizing and putting yourself in danger just to feel something other than devastation. To omit this part of the experience would be to deny the truth, but detailing what happened means hurting the people I love.
Over the last two years, I allowed myself to be paralyzed by the potential of hurting everyone else, even though writing is the only thing that has brought me closer to healing. I needed a factor of accountability. I needed something like NaNoWriMo.
I know my friends and family will be hurt when they read this, but I hope inspiration resonates deeper than the pain. It’s something I’ve wanted to share the moment I boarded the plane home. My only regret is not writing it sooner.
