I feel I’m getting towards the end in writing my memoir about healing from sexual abuse. I am excited and scared about ending. It’s been eleven years since I realized I’d been abused, and over four years I’ve been writing this memoir. The writing has been obsessive and wonderful, frightening, sad, and joyous.
Then I started telling people “I’m getting close to the end.” Soon I felt I had to believe it and hurry up and finish. Bad move. Today I am feeling as slow as mud and just about that inspired.
How many times do I need to relearn that slow is fast? I have an Eager Girl inner child who is always running to the next thing, always wants to be out there experiencing something new. She needs to take a nap. I need to remember how tender and sacred the writing is and let it unfold on its own time.