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My journey to find my writer's voice and the lessons I have learned on the way. |
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I can hear the faint strains my writer's voice calling me. After years of silence, she is starting to speak to me again. I find I can hear her more clearly everyday. As I listen to the words she softly whispers to me, I want to sing them for the world. But, to make them heard, they must be more than lyrics. They must be the music of the heart. This is my hunt for the melody. If you want to learn more about me, I have an extended bio
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| My prompt is a to write about an act of kindness I’ll never forget. I don’t know why but this one threw me for a loop. Ironically, nothing immediately came to mind. Which is strange because I have had so many people help me with my disability that there have too many acts of kindness towards me to count. So why didn’t anything stick out? It leads me to think about how kind my mother was. I wrote about how she complimented everyone. Even people she didn’t know. Especially people she didn’t know. In fact, I wrote about it in the piece I wrote for her and read at her funeral. "Gold Mining"  . But again out of everything I could’ve chosen that was the first thing that came to mind. And while it does fill the prompt because it doesn’t say to whom the kind act refers, it’s still not quite right. Why do I not have any specific recollection of something I feel was a kindness. Perhaps it lies in the definition of the word “kind.” As a writer, words are my art. Each word I use and each sentence I write is chosen very carefully. It is essential that I choose them just right in order to evoke any specific emotion. For example, I see a difference between the words “cute”,”pretty”, and “beautiful”. To many people they are synonymous but to me, they each have a different but specific emphasis. For instance, a high school girl is cute, a model is pretty, but a bride is beautiful. Which brings me back to my question. What is my definition of the word “kind” and why can I not think of any one thing that stands above than the rest. Acts of service is my love language and definitely falls into the “kind” category. I’ve received kindnesses by the dozen. So why doesn’t that qualify in my mind? It’s got me thinking that my definition would be to help someone for no other reason than the joy of it. Not because it was asked of you. When people do those things it is so … nice. But for some reason, it feels like it could be done out of obligation. Especially when it is done through the church members. How do I know it’s not just a show.; another checkmark on a list. Even when it isn’t, it still feels that way. Most things are done only when I ask and only because I ask. I am certainly not ungrateful, but for me those things would talk under “nice”,”wonderful”, and “helpful”. But still kind is not quite right. “kind” would be doing something for me unexpectedly because I need it; because they saw a need and filled it. Perhaps they saw a trap that I was falling into. Perhaps they can see what I cannot. It’s not the only definition and doesn’t apply in every situation. I guess it’s just because of my constant need. Be it rides to the grocery store, to the doctor, to the gym…ETC. I am always able to get my needs filled. There are so many wonderful people in the world that there are willing to help out. While there are many things that would qualify perhaps I’m looking at it from what I need right now rather than over time. What would an act of kindness look like for me today? I feel unseen, unheard, and unnecessary. I feel marginalized by society and I’m very lonely. Kindness to me would be for someone to notice that and actively help to pull me out of it. There are many nice people that will offer a hand when I ask. But not many who will warn me of the quicksand before I step in it and have already found the best vine to throw me. While the rest of the group continues forward. They enjoy my company, but they don’t noticeI’m not there until they need something from me. It almost makes me grateful for my epilepsy. It could be an incentive to stay sick. But since I don’t have the power to control seizures, I can check that off the list. If it weren’t for that, I could support myself and wouldn’t have to depend on everyone else. I would have my autonomy and I could support myself. So I guess it’s turned into what is an act of kindness you could really use? For me, no one is looking. A kindness I could use would be would be to see my struggle and actually be interested in trying to help me out of it rather than trying to explain why I feel this way. I don’t always need to analyze it and I’m not good at being proactive anymore. Years of having to work so hard to make sure the kids had a way to get where they were going has made me learn to ignore myself and my needs. I feel as if I have melted into the background and I’m just cellophane I’m there’s wind, or an object on a shelf. No one notices it until it’s gone, or that it was even there in the first place. They can’t quite put their finger on what has changed. At least that’s what I think I need. Perhaps I’m wrong. And that’s the point. I need someone to know what I need. And to just offer it to me instead of waiting for me to find it on my own. I don’t know what I don’t know. I come from being a teacher and example to my children to be an old woman and a burden who babysits to get into heaven. Kindness would be for someone to take an interest in that and help me find my way. It should be my husband, but it isn’t. He’s got too many things on his plate and it’s too much to expect. Which is why it would be considered “kind” instead of nice. You’re nice when you’re helpful but you’re kind when you’re needed. |
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Get them to recount happy memories. Then you can read or listen to those happy memories and remind yourself how happy and well adjusted your children are, and that comes from knowing they are loved and having good support.
God and the Friend-Finder Ochestra! My mind totally saw marquee there for some reason. Too tired. 
