Memories of little Me: the healer vs. the freak – Writing/Art as self-healing

I knew I was a writer before the age of 8. I knew I was an artist around the same time. I also knew I wanted to change the world. I knew that I could change it. This is my first real, authentic memory of little Germaine.


I knew I was different before the age of 8. I knew I was a weirdo around the same time. I also knew I was not as happy as other children. I knew that I was completely alone as an unhappy freak. This is my second real, authentic memory of little Germaine.

I held onto the second memory of me and forgot that the first held the power to heal the second. I also re-remembered that no one is ever truly alone in their weirdness, difference, unhappiness; that no one is ever really truly alone, just as surely as we are always truly alone. Thankfully, I’ve re-remembered that, with gratitude.



Writing for me as self-care/love/worth


I know I’m healing
when I write for me.


I know I’m writing for me when I don’t think about The Reader,
about what I think The Reader thinks about me, editing and censoring myself, me.

I know I’m writing for me when I don’t lie to myself, even by omission, when I’m the me in my safe space, not the persona.

I know I’m writing for me when my writing comes from my mind (body/soul), not my brain.

I know I’m writing for me when my writing is better, as a writer, and more real, more authentic.

I know I’m writing for me when it helps me remember and re-remember me.
I know I’m writing for me when it’s the writing my 10-year old self knew I would write: the blog as source for my book, and not the blog as a blog for others.
I know I’m writing for me when that writing heals me.
I know I’m healing when I write for me.

I know I’m healing well when I write poetry.
I know I’m healing when I make art again.
I know I’m healing when I’m creating, and not dying.


#beingnotapologisingforbeing #makingartformeagain #writingformeagain #iamenough

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One thought on “Memories of little Me: the healer vs. the freak – Writing/Art as self-healing

  1. Pingback: the history of Life Writ Large, of why I live life large #lettersfromselvespas(t)sed | life writ large

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