Writing through Trauma

In life, everyone struggles. We all have times where we can't see the good in the world, where too much trouble and uncertainty has crossed our paths. And in my short life, I've seen more bad than good. The situations and circumstances that have befallen me would make most want to give up, but I'm not about to give up because I have a rare opportunity on this planet to create a life for myself.

I could be bitter about things, internalize my hatred for everyone and blame the world for the trauma I've suffered. I could also say that everything happens for a reason and I'd be destined for something great in the future. But all of those things would be a false hope -- either clinging to one extreme versus the other. No one knows why bad things happen to good people, but I will never stop trying to be good.

I wrote my first book four years ago during my first-ever long term depression. Sorrow clouded my vision. I cried in the shower and in my car on my way to work everyday. I couldn't see past my miserable life, and then suddenly a brilliant idea: why not take your suffering and use it as something that someone, somewhere else could learn from. Why not write to understand what's hurting you and in turn help others to deal with their own hurt.

And just like that my debut novel, Logost, was born. And it wasn't just like that. It took years of writing, re-writing, fixing plot holes rounding out characters, getting themes and motifs to flow perfectly. And I love doing that shit. It was torture for me to write about sexual assault and mental illness. It was torture writing the book in general, but the added fantasy element made it seem more real, if that makes any sense.

Don't be fooled by the magic of the world. Decide for yourself what's real, and if you are so inclined, buy my book and write and review. We can only support each other.

Love,
Kris

You can purchase my debut novel here.

And she thinks she's the pink of perfection...

That's a line from a film called "Summer Magic" that I watched as a kid. When I was little and did a good job someone would always drop the word "perfect." 

I was a cute kid so adults constantly gave me attention for my looks, and then when I did something smart I got coded as "perfect." 

"She's so perfect," they'd say. 

"You're perfect," my mother would tell me. "Not my perfect Crissy," she'd utter if anyone ever spoke a word against me. 

"I love how perfect you are," said my husband and I was always afraid to let everyone down.

Because I'm not perfect, and for the first time in my life I'm not trying to be.

I used to think that if I acted as perfect as possible my life would be easier and everyone would love me. I thought if I always looked beautiful, excelled professionally, kept my house clean and baked elaborate desserts for everyone, I wouldn't have a care in the world. 

Well, as I'm sure you've guessed by now it didn't work out for me. I became a warden of my own thoughts and actions. Anything that didn't seem perfect was banished from my personality, and anyone in my life who wasn't trying to be perfect, I condemned. And really all I was doing was condemning myself, judging myself along the same strict standards as I did every person I met. 

I felt as though I had to be perfect or my friends and family wouldn't be able to brag about me anymore. I was desperate to keep up my persona and then one day I just broke -- cracked right down the middle. 

There was no hope left. I couldn't be saved and so I had to give up the battle for perfection. I had to stop counting every single calorie I put in to my body. I had to stop punishing myself for my own mistakes and short-comings because no one is perfect, and anyone who might be perfect is probably horribly boring. 

So my point is that you should always do your best, but who gives a fuck if your house isn't spotless. Who cares if a few cookies have some burnt edges -- you'll eat them anyway because they taste amazing. Imperfection is beautiful, it's unique. 

Don't turn in to a drone, and don't have a break down like I did. Love yourself and your friends and family because they aren't perfect and neither are you.

Love,

Kris