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A Writer’s Metamorphosis: From Secrets to Open Expression and Dialogue

Today I am happy and honored to be taking part in my first Blog Tour for writers. I was invited to participate by one of my favorite Martha Beck master coaches, CrisMarie Campbell.

I enjoyed CrisMarie’s piece on Writing Out Loud. Her beautiful, honest depiction of how she became a writer was very touching and inspiring to me. You can read it yourself  Here.
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Now for my own writing journey
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A Writer’s Metamorphosis: From Secrets to Open Expression and Dialogue

 

I’m not a writer. I just write stuff sometimes.

That’s what I had as my profile on a blog I started several years ago.

 

Growing up, writing was not even in my consciousness until my senior year in high school when one of my teachers, Mr. K, started a small writing club and invited me to join. I don’t remember what we wrote about but we got together once a week and read our writings and opined about them. I used to feel totally intimidated by one of my classmates who wrote elaborate essays on political and existential issues with big, flowery words. I remember using that as an excuse that I can’t write and asking Mr. K to drop out of the club. He wouldn’t hear of it. He told me there were many different styles of writing and sometimes simple was better. I halfway believed him, unlike Dr. E who insisted I stay in the choir because he was sure I could sing when I knew very well I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket!

My next attempt to write was when I started college.

I had a crush on a radio DJ mostly because of his lovely speaking voice and because he played my favorite songs. My freshman year, I came across some of his writings in one of the university’s publications. This inspired me to write my own impressions of college life, the social scene, and the interactions that I distinguished as real or fake. Deep stuff for an eighteen year old.

Then I had the bright idea to send these musings to my DJ, signing them with: Peace, your anonymous friend. Thinking back now, I love that girl! I wasn’t sure he was getting them or not until he started talking about them on his radio show, thanking his anonymous friend for another great poem or story.  I was thrilled that he was willing to play with me! But then one day he said: Dear anonymous friend, please let me know who you are because you’re too precious to stay anonymous!

Wow! He called me precious! He really liked my writing! Or he found a clever way to flush me out and he succeeded. I told him who I was and he took me out for pizza and made me promise to keep sending him my pieces.  But I didn’t keep my promise. It was ruined because it was supposed to be secret! So I never sent him my stories and poems after that.

These young attempts at writing were about expressing pent up feelings, doubts, fears, thoughts about life. They were helpful because I felt I couldn’t tell anyone about these things, so I told my notebook instead. In retrospect, I wish I kept writing through college, but I didn’t.

Writing then was just for my notebook.

 

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On American University of Beirut campus

 

 

After college, I got married and had children. I found myself writing again, a diary of sorts.
I wrote about my frustrations, my fears, my hopes and my wishes. Anything from the silly about the Thanksgiving turkey being a disappointment to the serious about my dreams for my family. It was almost like praying… but on paper. I couldn’t tell anyone else these things, so I told my notebook and God.
Sometimes, I would actually address my writing to Him.
Dear God, did you read my last note? Just in case you didn’t, I’m going to tell you that story again and see what you think.

Writing then was for my notebook and God.

 

I also wrote long  epic letters to my sons just in case, you know, something happened to me and I didn’t get to tell them everything I needed to teach them about life. They remain sealed. Maybe I should update those since I’m pretty sure I’ve covered all that’s in those letters with the boys by now. They would agree.

That writing was for my notebook and my sons.

 

After the boys left for college, I entered a dark phase of my life, full of anger, doubt, pain and sorrow, regrets, uncertainty, every great emotion that is dubbed negative for some reason. I questioned everything from who I was, to what I was doing here. The day I started writing about all this was the first day of my healing process. I spent that year and the next reading and writing. It was like going through an angry, volatile, bitter storm… but on paper. I wrote to work through all the emotions, to allow them to be what they were and express them to help them flow out. It allowed me to hear what was going on inside me instead of shutting it down.

Writing became for my notebook, God and myself then.

 

Gradually the fog lifted and I emerged. Metamorphosis. I saw everything more clearly and in the meantime, I had fallen in love with writing. I knew I wanted to write so I started a blog and wrote my stories. Funny stories, sad stories, all from my life experiences. This time I was willing to share them with some people, so I put it out there but with the qualification of “I am not a writer”. I was surprised when I received great feedback, a few trusted friends encouraged me to keep writing. One day an Australian poet I loved sent me a  note: You are a writer. That’s all it said. And I might have believed him.

Today writing grounds me and frees me. It helps me see the absurdity of the old fears, helps me rejoice in being alive! It’s like  shouting from the rooftops: Hey people! I’m sitting here, breathing, and I’m writing… stuff! Come talk to me! It couldn’t get any better than this.

I see myself as a storyteller. I tell stories from my life, wisdom I have gathered over the years or learned from my coaching tribe, my clients’ struggles and successes.  These days there’s usually a subtle (or not so much) message in these stories hoping it might help at least one person, (or maybe not).

Writing now is for my notebook, for myself and for you, dear readers.

 

 

HIRES LA NLH MBI-6069

 

 

I am a writer.

I used to write because I couldn’t tell anybody.

Now I write to tell everybody who wants to listen.

 

 

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Now I would like to introduce you to three more writers:

Sarah O’Leary is a life and wellness coach certified by Dr. Martha Beck. She helps women reclaim their radiant vitality at midlife and beyond so they can choose and live the life they’ve dreamed of.  Visit her blog at: http://www.saraholeary.net/

 

Darren Stoupe is a curator of all things creative, a shameless seeker of more JOY, and a writer of the voices in his head. Hop on over to http://www.darrenstoupe.com and see what he’s all about.

 

Mary Ann Johnstone is a Certified Life Coach who loves working with other coaches, psychologists & healers of all kinds. She is exhilarated by the surprising adventure of writing and is often sprinting to her notebook to catch the unexpected ideas from the muse. Visit: http://maryannjohnstone.com

 

 

2 Comments on A Writer’s Metamorphosis: From Secrets to Open Expression and Dialogue

  1. Laura
    July 7, 2014 at 5:54 pm (10 years ago)

    Thank you for this post -it’s inspirational and motivational. I never thought of myself as a writer,either, but have had the niggling urge to start a blog. Then, I wondered why would anybody want to read what I have to say? Still don’t know the answer to that, but maybe it doesn’t matter.

    Namaste, my friend.

  2. Leda Asmar
    July 9, 2014 at 1:58 am (10 years ago)

    Hi Laura!
    Thank you for reading and commenting! I believe you do have things to say and when you feel that urge, it’s best to follow it and see where it leads. You’re also right that it doesn’t matter! Write for yourself first and see what wonderful things you discover. I can’t wait to read your blog! Do it! 🙂

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