I didn’t know how writing a memoir would be such an intensive process. I didn’t realize how much raw emotion would surface as I pondered my life and where I wanted the writing to go. I only knew that I had to write.
I didn’t always know what I would write about. I only knew that I had to write. I had to find a way to deal with the tidal way of thinking about being undone.
My unbecoming wasn’t a messy one. It was rather gradual. My unbecoming started as a slow burn and became a blazing fire when I lost my job. It was the first job I ever lost. Actually it began the day I decided I’d had enough of living lies. I’d had enough of pretending everything was okay. Job loss only served as a catalyst – a day of reckoning. So April 1 I began the journey. I’ll be wrestling with words as I try to figure out what all this means to me and maybe even to you – job loss, hurt, pain, disconnectedness, recovery, belonging, and being. Yes, being. Learning to live in the “be” is the most important thing for me. That idea of “being” is what I’ll be writing about. More importantly, I hope to discover the joy and beauty of simply just “being.” So here’s to unbecoming because that is what leads to the “being.” See you in May!
You can follow me on the journey at http://campnanowrimo.org/campers/mercysong/novels/the-unbecoming
You can also support Camp NaNoWriMo by making a donation to support them here. A million thanks for your support!
For the rest of the month of April, I won’t be blogging much. Till then here’s a snippet of self-discovery on the road to unbecoming.
It was 2005. She was broken. She was jobless. She was searching. She was curled up on the couch. Her knees where tucked in close under her. She did the only thing she knew would not fail her. She whispered a feeble prayer, but it was enough for Him to act upon. No sooner were the words out of her mouth than He was there. The Shepherd entered. He cloaked her with his robe. In her mind she saw His mighty wings wrapping around her, as though to shield her; and she felt safe. The tension ceased. Her shoulders relaxed. She breathed in deep and laid her head upon his chest. She was home. She didn’t even know she was that close to Him and He so close to her. (from The Unbecoming by Marvia Davidson)
So pardon me will I write the unfolding of a love story through the unbecoming.